


Void Children: Godmaster's Glory

by Anonymous_Vermin_Invader



Series: Void Children [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Chapter 1 is content pack spoiler free!, Gen, Godmaster DLC Spoilers, Void Children AU, Void Children: Slices of Life Edition Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Vermin_Invader/pseuds/Anonymous_Vermin_Invader
Summary: After the invasion of the Muldvarps had been fought and won, Ghost and friends go on another adventure during what was suppose to be a simple excursion into the Waterways to dig up some rad Muldvarp bones.Find out what else they'll discover in this latest edition to the Void Children AU!





	1. Finally!

**Author's Note:**

> Delivered as promised :3c

Tiresome restlessness. It was like a horrid miasma simmering at the back of their mind; never truly in the forefront but always remaining a constant background noise. 

They thought it had gone away after their first stage of metamorphosis, and they had shrugged off the few odd outbursts they had during the invasion of the Muldvarps.

But afterwards, when the dust had finally settled and most of the major repairs had been completed, Ghost felt that same restlessness return to them.

They had succeeded in distracting themselves with helping around; filling in the burrows and holes with Myla and Ogrim; clearing away debris with Mato; assisting Cornifer in charting the extent of the damage done during the invasion; making sure their siblings stayed out of the way whilst construction was in motion; re-burying the desecrated corpses that were disturbed from their resting places. They did everything they could to keep themselves occupied.

Now however, they found themselves resting atop an old trunk beneath a windowsill, whilst they stared vacantly out the window on the second floor of their cottage in Dirtmouth. 

“Watching the town hall’s roof being finished, I see.” Quirrel said from where he lay on the cot just behind Ghost. 

Quirrel was still recovering from the injuries he had sustained when initiating the Waterway’s Purge system, and was currently on official bedrest until Hornet was satisfied that he had healed sufficiently enough. 

Quirrel took the situation in stride, resigned to staying put and resting as well as he could, even though he couldn’t help but inquire about how things were coming along whenever Hornet stopped by to check up on him. He too was feeling quite restive, but more because he was confined to a bed than anything else. 

At least Ghost and the rest of the gaggle came by to keep Quirrel company every now and then, but lately Ghost had been coming over alone –– usually at late hours when the children had already gone to sleep. 

During those times, the young Knight would simply sit by the bedside and Quirrel would instigate a one-sided conversation until Ghost would eventually slouch; a prime indicator that Quirrel had learned over time meant that they had fallen asleep.

There was one time in which he woke up to find that Ghost had crawled onto the foot of the bed sometime in the late, late, _late_ hours and had evidently curled up and fallen asleep there. Quirrel had found it amusing at the time, but now he wondered if it was a sign of something else going on.

At the moment, Quirrel had no idea where the rest of the children were, but could only assume that if Ghost had left them then Hornet was most likely the one watching over the gaggle at present. 

“Is everything alright, friend?” Quirrel spoke again when Ghost hadn’t reacted to his earlier comment.

The young Knight didn’t move from their place at the window; they were so eerily still that if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders as they breathed they would have appeared completely statuesque.

They continued to stare out the window, showing no signs that they had heard Quirrel.

Quirrel crossed his arms at this, tilting his head upwards as he proceeded to take on a tone of mock-offense. “Oh, I see how it is. I suppose in my old age I have become boring and uninteresting to the more youthful warriors of this era.”

That got a reaction.

Ghost started like they’d just had a rock thrown at them, turning around and staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes; as though the very idea of Quirrel being _boring_ was heresy.

Quirrel kept up the crossed look for a few more seconds, before his resolve finally crumbled into a fit of laughter, much to the other’s incredulity.

Even though Ghost couldn’t make any physical expressions, Quirrel could still feel Ghost’s indignant bafflement as they hopped off the their place by the window and climbed onto the bed to querulously bump heads with Quirrel.

Now that Ghost was taller, they’d gotten into the habit of bumping heads with others, specifically with their siblings as well as Quirrel –– though whenever they did it to Hornet, she would just give them a solid headbutt in retaliation.

Quirrel thought the gesture was endearing and he had the suspicion that Hornet thought it was sweet as well, but of course she always denied it. Strongly.

Quirrel gave the young Knight a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Do not worry, I’m only poking fun. Though, I will admit that I am more worried about you, friend.”

As Ghost sat crosslegged beside Quirrel on the bed, he noticed how their posture seemed to stiffen a bit; their mask angled slightly downwards in either resignation or guilt, Quirrel wasn’t sure.

“You look as though you have something on your mind. You know you can always––“ Quirrel caught himself before he could say ‘you can always talk to me’. He knew that apparently the Hollow Knight had the ability to communicate telepathically to some extent, but he doubted that Ghost would develop such an ability any time soon.

He was saved the trouble of trying to rearrange his wording when Ghost touched his unwounded shoulder, prompting him to glance up at the young Knight.

Ghost simply stared intently at Quirrel, as if their look alone could still his worries, but they could not deny that Quirrel’s concerns were not unfounded. 

Ghost remembered how they had behaved in recent times, acting out with aggression and violence, feeling out of sorts as though everything they had been through had finally come crashing down on their shoulders. Now that survival was no longer the only thing they were concerned with, all their repressed feelings and emotions had gradually been rising up.

Ghost was beginning to suspect that they _might_ have a lot more repressed feelings than they had been able to comprehend, and the thought unnerved them.

The sound of the door opening brought Ghost out of their musings, and they glanced up to see Hornet strut in with Two, Three and Tiny trailing behind her.  
“Ah, hello Hornet and children.” Quirrel greeted with a small wave with his uninjured arm. 

The children were quick to clamber up the bedside ––with Tiny struggling to accomplish the feat until Ghost leaned over to hoist them up by their cloak–– as they joined Ghost on the bed to hug Quirrel.

“Oi! Careful not to damage him further,” Hornet chastised lightly as she watched her siblings bodily tackle the poor bug in a group hug, but did nothing to stop them.

Quirrel squawked in both pain and amusement at the little ones’ antics. “Hah, I’m glad to see you three as well. Honestly, it is as though you all expect me to keel over whenever you give me a moment’s peace.”

“Well, you have been getting on in years, as they say,” Hornet noted aloud with a teasing lilt in her tone. “One cannot be blamed for thinking of you as ancient and fragile as one of the Seeker’s many relics.”

“Ah, you’re just envious because of all the hugs I’ve been receiving as of late.” Quirrel quipped.

Hornet glowered. “I am not! Affectionate embraces and doting are for soft-shelled grubs!”

Quirrel merely chuckled in response, the younger siblings having already moved on to scamper around the room in an impromptu game of tag, whilst Ghost remained stoically sitting at his side on the bed.

“Anyways,” Hornet cleared her throat. “I’ve taken the liberty to scout the Waterways for any sign of Muldvarps that may have survived the acid. You will be intrigued to know that I did not find any live Muldvarps, but I did find these white…objects.”

From beneath her cloak she withdrew what appeared to be a long off-white stick with rounded ends, handing the peculiar object over for Quirrel to inspect as she continued. 

“I found several like these in clustered structures crowded amongst the refuse, some quite larger than myself, and in many strange shapes and sizes. I also found various Muldvarp claws among them.” She could never forget those meter long claws that could shred through rock like sand. “So, what do you make of it?” She inquired.

Quirrel turned the white object over in his hand, humming in thought before his eyes lit up with realization. “Ah, bone!”

Hornet tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“It’s bone! I believe what you may have stumbled across are the skeletal remains of the Muldvarp menace.”

Hornet still looked bemused, so Quirrel further elaborated. “During my travels outside of Hallownest, I came across many strange and fascinating creatures. The most bizarre of which I came across were creatures that had their shell on the _inside_ of their bodies. I later learned after conversing with some locals, that these outside-in shells were called ‘skeletons’, and that these ‘skeletons’ were made up of individual parts called ‘bone’. Incredible isn’t it?”

Hornet blinked. “So, what you are saying is that there are beings out there…who have their shells…on the inside?”  
Quirrel nodded. “Indeed.”

Hornet slowly shook her head in disbelief. “That is perhaps the most absurd concept I have ever heard.” 

Ghost obviously thought otherwise, as they eyed the ‘bone’ still held in Quirrel’s hand, the latter eventually noticing their interest, willingly handed the bone over for Ghost to look at whilst Quirrel resumed his conversation with Hornet.

“I’d certainly be delighted if I could look at the Muldvarp skeletons myself. I didn’t have the liberty to study such things when I was journeying the Wasteland, what with all the dangers at every turn.”

“Well, I’m sure you can study them to your heart’s content once you’ve healed sufficiently.” Hornet said dismissively.

Quirrel looked down at himself in exasperation. “I think I’ve sufficiently healed enough, thank you. If I stay in this bed any longer, I’m more likely to wither away to dust than get any better.” 

He had meant this as a half-hearted joke, but Ghost immediately tore their attention away from the bone to look sharply at Quirrel with genuine concern, before looking to Hornet. 

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Hornet huffed, ignoring Ghost’s pointed expression. “You aren’t fit to be going on another excursion so soon after the invasion. The underground has yet to fully settle, and if you get caught in a cave-in then––“

“–I’ll have Ghost accompany me.” Quirrel interrupted Hornet’s lecture, and Ghost immediately hopped off the bed, already eager and ready to go with as soon as possible. 

“What– no!” Hornet objected with a stern glare. “How exactly is Ghost suppose protect you from a cave-in? I had to rescue _them_ from a cave-in down in the Kingdom’s Edge!”

Ghost was more worried about Quirrel potentially withering away in bed, and to express this, they tugged on Quirrel’s hand urgently.

Quirrel chuckled, looking at Hornet with a smirk. “It seems our friend is already set on the idea of a new adventure.” 

The other siblings had paused in their game to glance up in inquiry. A new adventure?

Hornet covered her face with the palm of her hand and gave a resigned, defeated sigh. “Here we go again…”


	2. Bone Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all go to the 'bone' zone says Quirrel, and Everyone agrees except for Hornet.

It turns out that Quirrel wasn’t the only one who wanted to check out the boneyard in the waterways. 

Ghost wanted to go because they wanted to get up and do something; The three children wanted to go because Quirrel and Ghost were going; Cornifer wanted to go because he thought he’d try his hand in Osteology for a night; Sly wanted to go because the fly merchant suspected that he could make a pretty sum of geo if he sold the bones in his shop; Hornet didn’t want to go, but was talked into going by Quirrel, his reasoning being that she was the only one who knew where the bones were; and Gritten wanted to go just because they could.

“ _‘Let us go on an adventure’_ he says, _‘The more the merrier, we shall make it an expedition’_ he says, _‘We’ll have a grand time’_ he says. Lies…” Hornet grumbled unhappily from where she stood on the damp floor of the area were the Muldvarps had previously congregated in the Waterways; watching as Quirrel and Cornifer chattered amongst themselves about how fascinating the big Muldvarp skeletons were.

Sly was off somewhere among the junk picking up whatever intact bones he could haul back to his shop, and Ghost was standing watch over their siblings again, though there was little need to act so vigilant with so many bugs present.

The siblings were playing amongst the garbage, despite Hornet’s attempts to get them to stop, because playing with garbage was just unsanitary, no matter how many times its been pelted with water and acid. 

“ _Mrrerr…_ ” 

Hornet’s vision was temporarily blinded as something decided to land on her head and wrap its wings around her face. 

“Get. Off!” Hornet pried the Grimmspawn from hell off her face. “Go dunk yourself in acid water, you annoying gnat!” She cursed as she held the Grimmchild by the tail at arm’s length.

“ _Mrreeh!_ ” Gritten blinked upside-down at Hornet with its big crimson eyes. 

Hornet glared pitilessly at it and flung the Grimmchild away from her, though doing so was ineffective as Gritten merely unfurled its wings and righted itself in midair, much to her annoyance.

“What are you pestering me for? Go bother Ghost or my other siblings. I have nothing for you.”

“ _Mrew mrrew…_ ” Gritten merely cocked its head before flying about in a circle and looking around as if they didn’t know where Ghost and their siblings were.

“Don’t act like you do not know where they are! They are right over there by that heap of garbage and—“ Hornet paused and did a double take. 

By the pile of garbage were what she had thought were her siblings, but upon closer inspection she realized it was nothing more than trash that had been cobbled together to make false parodies of her siblings.

Hornet’s eyes narrowed. “Clever little ghosts…”

——

Three was having a great time. Who knew there would be so much neat stuff to collect amongst the Waterway’s refuse; so much unwanted stuff that no one needed and would not be missed when the Third Little Ghost pilfered and stowed everything away into their impermeable Inventory.

Yes, Little Ghost Three’s kleptomania was in full throttle and nothing was going to stop them. Not even their siblings.  
Two and Tiny did not share in their middle sibling’s hoarding hobby, and were more eager to explore than dig around in garbage, which was probably why they were even following Three in the first place.

Three had at some point started following a trail of geo, and the other siblings had decided to tag along once they were done crafting their Garbage Vessels, (Tiny was quite proud of their handiwork). None of the children questioned why there was a candy-trail of geo leading deeper into the Waterways, so they did not foresee the inevitable trap that they were likely walking straight into. 

Which is why Ghost, being the older sibling, and thus the more experienced and mature of them, should have stopped their siblings from falling for this trap.

In the past Ghost had fallen for a similar trap when they had opened a chest, only to receive one measly geo from it and as a result had hopped into the chest to see if that really was all that was in there, only to fall down a hole and into a cave with two infected and enraged Elder Baldurs.

So, one would think that Ghost wouldn’t fall for such a trick again. However, curiosity killed the slugcat, and Ghost was intrigued by the trail of geo and wanted to know where it led. Besides, Ghost was confident that whatever was lying in wait at the end of this trail, they would be more than a match for it.

Imagine Ghost’s surprise and disappointment when the geo trail abruptly ended. 

Three picked up the last bit of geo. It was a silver geo, worth 5 geo. Three added it to the 89 geo they had plucked from the trail. 

Ghost looked about, wondering where or when the trap would spring on them, but found nothing. Just the dark, wet hallway with leaky pipes, cracked wall and—

Ghost glanced back up at the wall their gaze had passed over, the usually water smoothed stone was cracked and brittle. They had never noticed it before in their many excursions into and from the Royal Waterways during their time in Hallownest, but perhaps it was caused by the Muldvarps’ invasion. It might also have been another sign of the City’s foundation’s inevitable erosion.

Ghost widened their stance and focused, the dull hum of power charging up within them was like the coiling of a copper spring.

Their siblings took a few steps back, not sure what exactly their older sibling was about it do or why.

Then, with practiced ease, Ghost released the tension of coiled energy and executed a perfect Great Slash with their nail; the cracked wall being utterly obliterated into rubble as a result, and giving way to reveal a portion of the Waterways Ghost had never seen before.

When the dust settled, Ghost, Two, Three and Tiny poked their heads up through the hole. They all stared with unblinking, void-filled eyes at the obviously uncharted territory, but Ghost was the first to note two things.

For one, it became apparent that the acid had not flushed through this portion of the Waterways as the pink mold all across the walls indicated. And two, the Muldvarps hadn’t come through this portion either, if the still squirming Fluke Larva happily gorging on the pink fungus were anything to go by, and where there were Fluke Larva, there were Flukemons and Flukefey.

Ghost did not like Flukes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a tad short but don't worry, the next will likely be longer.


	3. A New Lead

One massacre later, and Ghost was certain that they had slaughtered every live Fluke in the tunnels. Flukemungas were officially the grossest creatures they had ever stumbled upon in the entirety of Hallownest, and it was a shame that the gross fat things weren’t all devoured by the Muldvarps.

Once Ghost was satisfied that the area was clear, their siblings were allowed to crawl in through the hole in the wall. 

There was very little to discover in the narrow passageways other than the occasional geo chest that had yet to be busted open, to which every Vessel made a scramble to collect as much of the spilt geo as possible so that Three wouldn’t hoard all of it to themselves. It was good to have a decent amount of geo in one’s Inventory, you never knew when you might need it.

It wasn’t long before Ghost and their siblings found their way into another area, this one wide and filled with the largest deposit of the City’s garbage that Ghost had ever seen. Ghost mentally dubbed this new area as simply: The Junk pit. 

Ghost wasted no time in being the first to jump over the ledge, falling a short distance only to splash down into cold, clean water, and after a moment they looked back up at their siblings still peering down at them from atop the ledge and waved them over.

Being given the All-Clear, Tiny was the next to take the leap of faith and land safely in the water, splashing Ghost in the process. Two and Three hopped in next, and soon enough all four Vessels were swimming towards land where the junk was overflowing off into the surrounding waters.

Upon reaching dry-ish land, the four siblings started picking their way through the junk, occasionally coming across chests with only sparse amounts of geo left, (much to everyone’s disappointment), as well as other random undefinable trash that none of them could fathom the original purpose of. 

It was when they crested a sizable pile of debris that they finally came upon something of interest.

The thing was sticking out of the ground end first, and on first glance the object of interest looked as though it was a large golden coffin with chains wrapped snuggly around it, with a lock centered in the middle.

Ghost slid down the pile of rubbish and their siblings quickly scampered to follow, though Tiny was none too graceful as they tripped and tumbled end over end until finally landing with a muffled thump at the bottom.

Ghost was quick to pick the Tiniest back up and check them over for any wounds before dusting them off, returning their attention to the golden coffin before them.

The golden coffin loomed over the Vessels, appearing much larger up close, and for a brief moment they all stared at it with mixtures of curiosity, unease and wonder. 

Ghost stepped forward and touched the tomb’s surprisingly immaculate surface, and their hand traced over a series of curved grooves situated on the side of the tomb. Ghost bent down on one knee to have a better look.

PALE LURKER WAS HERE, read the text scratched into the gold surface. Below the obvious tagging was a signature in the shape of a bug’s face with six eye holes in its mask.

Ghost, confused, pondered over the meaning. There was only one place where they had seen that eye pattern before—with six dots situated in a diamond pattern— and that was on the battle helmets worn by the members of the Colosseum of Fools. 

—

Meanwhile, Hornet was busy trying to locate her wayward siblings whilst Gritten flew circles around her head, annoying her to no end.

She had informed Quirrel that the children had taken off, presumably with Ghost, and Quirrel had initially offered to help her find them but Hornet insisted that there was no need and that the Vessels were likely just up to their usual shenanigans.

To say the least, locating bugs in Hallownest can be tricky, especially when one is trying to locate a bug—or in this case, a Vessel— that is infamously known to travel all across the kingdom at a moment’s notice; meaning that Ghost could be anywhere, but since they were with their siblings, Hornet assumed that they hadn’t gone far. Unless Ghost happened to have supernatural teleporting powers that she was unaware of.

“ _Mrew!_ ” Gritten suddenly flew in front of her, hovering in the air and blocking her from going any further.

Hornet glowered and resisted the urge to swipe her needle at it, and she watched in silence as the Grimmchild flew around her once before flying over to an opening in one of the walls. The recently disturbed rubble indicated that the hole was recently made.

Hornet frowned, turning fully around and headed over to the hole that Gritten had found, peering up it cautiously. 

With no sign of danger, Hornet hopped up and entered a new portion of the Waterways, noting the recent carnage that had taken place.

“Well, that settles it. Ghost definitely went this way, if all these perforated corpses are anything to go by.” Hornet glanced over her shoulder at Gritten, pausing a moment before turning away and muttering offhandedly. “Good find.”

“ _Mrrroo…_ ” Gritten meowed proudly.

—

Ghost found themselves at a bit of a dilemma. First off, they wanted to explore what was up above them, but the sheer rock and jumps they’d have to make meant that taking their siblings along with them would prove to be a tedious and possibly risky endeavor. So, either they left their siblings behind and trust that nothing would happen to them in the time that Ghost was gone, or wait until next time. 

_CLANG!_

Ghost could be patient when they wanted to; they could sit for hours listening to Marissa’s singing. 

_CLANG!_

They could sit and be captivated by Quirrel’s philosophical ramblings.

_CLANG!_

They could listen to Elderbug’s stories.

_CLANG!_

They could even pause a moment to listen to Zote recite his 57 precepts.

_CLANG! CLANG!”_

But when there was a mystery, and a new area to be discovered and explored. Ghost hated waiting. 

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

So, in order to stave off boredom whilst they pondered on what to do, they struck at the golden tomb with their nail for lack of anything better to do.

Their siblings were unaware of their elder sibling’s restlessness and had taken to helping Ghost in beating up the immovable coffin using nearby garbage, thinking it was some kind of game. Two had discovered a big stick of shellwood as their weapon of choice, whilst Three had found the husked leg of some undefined bug to use as a club, and Tiny actually managed to find a bent pin nail to swipe ineffectively at the golden tomb.

However, the coffin remained steadfast against the onslaught, its chains holding firm and its lock unwavering, much to Ghost’s mounting frustration.

They knew that the lock required a Simple Key to open, but surely a Simple Lock can Simply be bashed to smithereens with brute force. But, the Simple Lock remained Simply indestructible by unknown Simple means of Simplicity.

“What are all of you doing?” 

All the Vessel’s abruptly ceased their assault on the golden tomb and looked towards the source of the voice, (though Tiny gave it one last firm wack just to be sure).

Hornet stood atop the small hill of garbage, squinting imperiously down at her wayward siblings with an unimpressed look, the Vessels staring back at her like she’d just caught them with their hands in the cookie-jar. Though her intimidating demeanor was quickly soiled by Gritten flying into the back of her head and wrapping its wings around her face from behind, causing Hornet to flail and curse almost comically as she stumbled forwards.

“ARGH! You wretched, overgrown belfly—I will sew you into a purse, I swear to the Mother’s Brood!” Hornet snarled as she tossed the Grimmchild away, to which it did a summersault in midair before gliding down to flutter about its favorite Vessels.

Ghost remained still as Hornet gathered herself and gracefully walked down the pile of trash. Once she was less than a few feet away, Ghost gestured with their nail at the golden tomb, looking to Hornet as if that would explain anything.

Hornet looked at the golden tomb for a moment, before shaking her head. “No. I do not know what it is, or what it contains. Though, if I were to guess, it’s likely some ludicrously glamoured vault of some High Caste aristocrat from the City.”

Perhaps, but Ghost didn’t think so, this didn’t feel as though it was something to be easily dismissed. There was something about it that just screamed something about it was important.

Something…God-like.

Suddenly, something fell over Hornet, causing her to fall to the ground with a surprised gasp as she found herself tangled in what appeared to be a crudely made net.

Nearby piles of garbage erupted as armored bugs leapt out of hiding, their forms hidden by various mismatched salvaged junk, and barreled towards the group with a loud war-cry.

Ghost leapt into action, shade dashing through the first lumbering Junkbug and striking the next one with their nail, knocking off a portion of the scavenger’s cobbled together armor with ease. Another Junkbug made to slam its entire weight onto Ghost, but was blown back by an Abyssal shriek from the deadly Vessel. 

“Ghost! The children!” came Hornet’s warning cry, she had just slashed her way out of the net but was currently parrying several blows from multiple foes, and Ghost quickly saw what she meant.

Gritten was spitting crimson fire balls left and right, scorching the attackers as they hovered protectively over the three siblings, but Gritten could only do so much. 

One Junkbug threw a boomerang-like weapon, knocking the Grimmchild clear out of the air and into a waiting net held by another bug, allowing the other brutes to converge onto the helpless Vessels.

Ghost felt something in themselves snap at that instant.

Fueled with fury, Ghost executed a spinning blade attack that knocked away every creature standing nearby, and charged at the horde attacking their younger siblings.

They cut, slashed, and stabbed at the junk covered scavengers, but resisted the urge to fire any spells in fear of accidentally hitting their siblings. 

Suddenly one of the Junkbugs in the horde gave a scratchy victory cry, holding up a wriggling sack that Ghost knew held their trapped siblings, but before Ghost could do anything, the bug clutching the sack unfurled a pair of insectoid wings and buzzed into the air; zooming up and away through an opening above the ledge.

The rest of the Junkbugs, having apparently gotten what they needed quickly began retreating, their garbed forms effortlessly blending in with the surrounding garbage as they made off with Gritten and the three siblings in their clutches.

Ghost rushed to follow, so blinded were they by their rage they were practically seeing red, they blasted vengeful shades at fleeing bugs with reckless abandon, striking their nail out with deadly blows and slaying quite a few before the rest had escaped.

Now Ghost was left with slashing at piles of garbage, slinging every spell they knew to obliterate every possible place the Junkbugs could be hiding until they ran out of SOUL to use. 

“Ghost! Enough!” 

Ghost whirled around and lashed out with their nail, only for it to clash with that of their sister’s as the two locked gazes. Rage-filled eyes boring into chillingly calm ones.

“Ghost, you need to stop. Wasting your strength on decimating piles of refuse will not help us find our siblings.” Hornet spoke with measured control, though she herself was inwardly screaming to kill every last one of those scrabbling low-lives who had dared to kidnap her family. But she needed to make sure Ghost was under control before they brought the entire cavern crashing down on them.

A tense few seconds passed; Ghost visibly shaking with anger, their hold on their nail in a near death-grip.

Hornet braced herself.

Then the first tear fell. Ghost abruptly disengaged from Hornet and turned away, furiously wiping away the stray tear and looking numbly at the ground, their nail held limply at their side. All the fight having left their body and leaving them with nothing but a…hollow…feeling. 

A part of them felt a curl of unease at how familiar that feeling was.

Hornet laid a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, attempting some form of comfort. “We will find them. We will get them back, Ghost. I swear it.”

Ghost looked up at Hornet, a vague question in their eyes. 

“I managed to ensnare one of their underlings alive.” Hornet nodded her head over her shoulder in indication, a few feet away was one of the Junkbugs wrapped up in silk and futilely struggling to get free. “I’m sure he knows where his lot are taking them, he only needs to be properly _persuaded._ ”

The trapped Junkbug began shivering in terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it _was_ a trap!..... wait a second.


	4. Bargain

The Colosseum of Fools is renowned for its gladiatorial battles. Its infamous knack for breeding and training creatures to fight each-other, and drawing warriors from far and wide to fight for glory, has drawn many crowds of onlookers who cheer and bet ludicrous amounts of geo on the various possible victors of these gruesome matches.

It seemed that many foolhardy bugs were just dying to throw themselves into the fighting pit, and many more were eager to watch the bloodshed.

Bugs were more than willing to pay for a good show. But keeping combatants and trial fodder up to snuff for each event was more difficult, breeding enough sharp Baldurs and armored Squits to release into the fray was simple enough, but raising and training creatures took time.

Lately, business has reached an all time high after rumors of a mysterious little knight having completed all 3 trials had circulated, more bugs were coming to the Colosseum. This was good, because it meant more geo, but it was also quickly becoming problematic as the Colosseum chewed through its combatants and demands for more excitement spiked. 

Now, the Colosseum’s permanent residences––though all of them fools––were not idiots, and with their newfound wealth, began to pay bounty hunters and any fool who could capture more creatures to fight in the Colosseum. 

“Hrm, this?” A large bug, one of the Colosseum’s Beast tamers, (not to be confused with the more renowned God Tamer) pointed an unimpressed claw at the cage of shivering pale-faced squibs. “This is what you bring me? I told you to bring me fighting creatures, not weakling larvae!”

The flying Junkbug, who had brought the captured Vessels to the back area of the Colosseum where the Beast tamers kept their more feral competitors, tried in vain to somehow salvage the deal. 

“Well thenz they’z be good az fodder for biggerz beaztlingz!” It said in a screeching voice not unlike the top half of a beheaded Flukemon. “I’mez zertain they’z be worthz your geo! C’monz! A hundredz geo, I givez you all three zquibz!”

The Beast tamer didn’t seemed to be be convinced, but he supposed there must be something he could do with the three little ones, and if they proved to be as useless as they appeared, he'd just feed them to the other beasts. But he sure wasn’t going to let this wretched bottom feeder haggle a hundred geo out of him.

“Hrm, I’ll give you thirty geo. ten geo for each squib, and just because I’m feeling generous, I’ll add an extra ten geo for your troubles.” He smirked inwardly as he watched the stupid Junkbug struggle to add up the amount in its head, taking several seconds to count on its appendages. Apparently math was not one of the greasy flier’s strong suites. 

“Errrzzz… howz ‘bout diz, I waitz for rezt of Junkbugz to arrivez, they’z havez one other beazt withz themz.” The flying Junkbug did not add that the other Junkbugs were probably better at counting than it.

The Beast tamer tapped his foot on the floorboard impatiently. “Well, why haven't they already arrived then? Surely they can handle one critter.”

“Errmzzz…” The flier fluttered its wings nervously as both bugs became aware of the approaching sound of muffled shouting and yelps, before the door behind them burst open.

Two Junkbugs were struggling to reign in a fire-spitting, winged creature that was partially entangled in the smoking remains of a net, practically dragging the Junkbugs into the room as it beat its wings furiously.

“Err, it wasn’t our fault!” Another Junkbug gasped as it ran into the room after the other two. “The firespitter burnt through its bindings!”

“I CANZ ZEE DAT!” The flier snapped as it buzzed its wings, obviously feeling flustered. “Hurryz upz and uze the chainz inztead, you maggotz!”

The Beast tamer observed as the filthy garbage bugs hustled to fully restrain the creature. Now _this_ was a fighter! He did not recognize the breed, and it was rather small in comparison to some of the other creatures the Colosseum had in stock, but he was certain that with a proper handler the firespitter could be trained into a formidable opponent.

“Tell ya what,” the Beast tamer spoke to the greasy flier. “I’ll take the three squibs and that firespitter for two-hundred and fifty geo.”

The flying Junkbug glanced over at its fellows, as if uncertain if the deal was good or not. But the other Junkbugs seemed equally perplexed; useless as always. It really was a shame that the larger Junkbugs were slain during the ambush, they likely would have had better sense when it came to bargaining.

“Errrmzzz…you’z… you’z makez it three-hundredz and we’z haz a deal?” The flier retorted, though it came out more like a question than a demand.

The Beast tamer squinted thoughtfully as he eyed the flier, scratching his chin with a claw as though considering the offer very carefully. Honestly, he could very well just release his attack Baldurs on the ragtag group and take the captured critters by force. But the Little Fool had asked him that he not do that anymore, saying that killing their employers was bad for the business and something about Lord Fool being cruel and merciless but always fair.

Everyone who worked at the Colosseum knew that the Lord of Fools was clearly dead and that his corpse was currently rotting on the throne overseeing the fighting ring, everyone except those who were in denial about the Lord’s passing, such as the Little Fool. But it was an unspoken superstition that the spirit of the Lord of Fools lingered, and was a constant spectator of each and every battle held in the Colosseum. Those who were around when Lord Fool was still alive remembered his strict rules, and the repercussions for breaking them; the Lord of Fools fought battles brutally but fairly, no underhanded tricks or poisoned blades were tolerated in the ring, and cheating during a fight was considered great cowardice. 

Double-crossing these Junkbugs, however wretched and pathetic they were, would be a traitorous act of cowardice in the eyes of Lord Fool.

“Alright, a deal’s a deal,” the Beast tamer fished out a small pouch from beneath his shell and tossed it to the flier. “Take your geo and scram before I sick the Baldurs on the lot of you.”

The flier fumbled with the pouch of geo, peaking inside to confirm its contents before giving a chittering shriek to its companions and zipping up and away out of sight. The other Junkbugs quickly dropped their ends of the chains wrapped around the firespitter and skittered back through the way they’d come. 

Gritten, having been straining against the chains the entire time, found themselves suddenly flying into a wall as their chains abruptly went slack upon being let go. They collapsed in a heap onto the wooden floor in a daze, before their view was turned upside down as the Beast tamer effortlessly plucked them up by the tail.

Gritten shook off their dizziness and attempted to hack a fireball at the large bug, but their attempt was shut down as their jaws were suddenly clasped in a cold-iron muzzle, preventing them from opening their mouth wide enough to spit anything more than a few embers. 

The Grimmchild was then unceremoniously locked into a boxed in cage similar to the one the children were currently held in. Gritten thrashed and hissed the entire way.

The three siblings were too stunned with fear to do anything but huddle together at the back of their cage, remaining eerily still as they stared with their wide, unblinking eyes. 

The Beast tamer didn’t have anything in mind at the moment as to what to do with with them, so he merely picked up their cage and set it atop one of the other larger ones before shuffling away and disappearing down a corridor, muttering unintelligibly to himself.

Gritten threw themselves against the walls of their cage, but eventually wore themselves out and slumped with exhaustion. “ _Mrrew…_ ” They dearly wished that the rest of their adopted family would rescue them and the others soon. 

***

When Hornet and Ghost returned to the rest of the group–– who were still fiddling with the Muldvarp bones–– with a tied up Junkbug in tow, there were many questions.

The first question being the most pertinent.

“Where are the children?” Quirrel inquired, barely hiding the concern in his voice. 

“They’ve been taken,” Hornet replied, receiving a shocked gasp from Quirrel and Cornifer and Sly looking up in confusion. Hornet did not wait for a response as she continued. “We were ambushed by a group of scavengers and they grubnapped the children, including the Grimmchild. But we managed to capture one of their own and I have already extracted the information needed to relocate them.”

“Well then what are we waiting for?” Quirrel, having already gathered up his things in preparation to start heading out immediately.

“There’s one problem,” Hornet warned. “They’ve taken the children to the Colosseum of Fools.”

Quirrel blinked. “The Colosseum? What reason could they have to bring the children there of all places?”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to rescue them as soon as possible. I’ve never bothered myself with entering the Colosseum before, though I have heard rumors that it is a place where barbaric thugs battle one another for sport and train beasts to fight to the death. Infiltration may prove difficult, so we must plan accordingly. Ghost, you–“

Hornet glanced to her side, but only saw the unconscious Junkbug. She looked around, but Ghost was no-where to be seen. “Where is Ghost?”

The others looked to each-other, then Cornifer pointed toward over yonder. “I believe the young fellow took off that way.”

Hornet gave a long suffering sigh, before shaking her head. “Right. Of course they would go charging on ahead of us. Ghost is too impatient to wait. Why am I not surprised.”

“We should go after them,” Quirrel insisted, but Hornet shot him a look.

“No. _You_ are still recovering, you’ll only get in the way as you are now.” 

Quirrel winced, stung by Hornet’s bluntness, but her words rang true so he conceded with a solemn nod. 

“What do you plan to do with this oaf?” Sly questioned, having finally decided to speak.

“I thought perhaps I could use it as a bargaining chip in exchange for the safe return of the children. Though, from the way the lot left their wounded to bleed out after the dust had settled, I doubt they would care about the safety of one of their own.” Hornet mused, eyeing the tied up garbage bug, before shaking her head again. “Let us be swift and return to Dirtmouth. I shall head out afterwards to pursue Ghost, hopefully they wont have already torn the entire place to the ground by the time I reach them…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always comes down to geo, huh. greedy buggers.
> 
> And I just realized that I used the word 'fodder' like...3 or 4 times. 
> 
> Fodder is the word of the day!


	5. Rescue Mission

It did not take long for Ghost to reach the Colosseum. They did not bother themselves with using the Stagstation, and instead took a short-cut through Ogrim’s chambers––went up the still very broken elevator before crystal dashing all the way into the King’s station––up to the actually working elevator, and scaled the elevator shaft to reach the platform where they crystal dashed again to bypass the colony of Belflies and zoom straight into the Colosseum itself.

It took them no more than 10 minutes to reach their soon-to-be victim of their wrath. 

 

“Aha, welcome back w– _ACK!_ ” The upside down Little Fool cried out in both pain and surprise as he was whacked upside the head with the flat side of a nail, the force of the blow causing the unfortunate bug to swing back and forth in his chains. 

“W-What are you doing?! The arena is _that_ way–– _AGH!_ ” The dangling chain-swaddled bug was smacked again, causing him to swing wildly in a circle.

“ _Oomph!_ Oh golly I think I’m gonna be sick—! Please, warrior, if it is battle you are seeking then just place your mark on the–– EEK! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” The Little Fool flailed futilely in his chains as he caught sight of the pale faced Knight angling the sharp edge of their nail and leveling at him with a powerful swing. The Little Fool clenched their eyes shut in preparation for the searing pain that was sure to follow.

_CHINNNG!_

Instead of death, the Little Fool fell to the floor in a clatter of broken chains as the knight released him from his bound state, and for a moment the Little Fool merely laid on the floor in a dazed state.

He was roused by a quick but firm kick to his side, and he quickly sat up to looked up at the Knight in a mixture of surprise and fear. Were they bigger? They seemed bigger than the last time the Little Fool had saw them, but his perception might simply be skewed with how the Knight was currently looming over him.

Those hollow, void-black eyes never seemed more furious and filled with barely contained anger than at that very moment. The Little Fool gulped.

“I-I-I don’t understand; what is it that you want?” The Little Fool received no answer as Ghost leered down at him.

After a few very nerve-rattling seconds, Ghost struck the floor with their nail with a sharp _ping!_ The strike made dangerously near where the Little Fool sat, prompting the round bug to leap to their feet with a frightened _Eeep!_

The Knight shoved the bug towards the warrior’s pit, knocking him down the well before jumping in themselves, slamming the metal grate shut behind them.

The Little Fool hit the floor, rolling a short distance before coming to a dizzy stop. Ghost followed after, nudging him up despite his wobbliness. It had been quite some time since the Little Fool had used his legs to support his own weight after all. But Ghost did not have the time nor the patience to feel any concern for the round bug’s wellbeing. 

Right now, all that mattered was their siblings. 

They stopped in the center of the warrior’s pit, placing a firm claw on the Little Fool’s head and pointing with their nail at the various barred entryways lining the wall behind the bench.

“Huh?” The Little Fool chanced a nervous glance about the room and the numerous snoring warriors. He thought about calling out for help at that moment, but the warning squeeze from the Knight’s claws made him think better of it. 

Besides, even if he did alert the other fools, he was pretty sure that the Knight would utterly destroy them. The Little Fool had never seen the pale-faced warrior fight (what with being chained upside-down to the ceiling and all that), but based on the roaring cheers and the gossip overheard from various spectators, not much was left up to the imagination on just what the Knight was capable of. 

The Knight swung their nail from side to side, gesturing more forcefully at the different entryways.

“Uh—those doors? Well, th-they lead to the other parts of the Colosseum. Storage, for instance, and it’s also where we keep all the beasts as well as where the other fools enter the arena during the Trials. Um—uh, is there a door you wish to go through?”

The Knight gave a near imperceptible nod and the Little Fool quickly returned their gaze towards the entryways and pointed.

“Okay, uh, well, that door on the far left leads to the Vault where we keep all the geo, though I’m guessing that’s not what you’re after, seeing as how you’re practically the champion of the Trials and could easily win more geo––“ The impatient tap of a fore-claw atop the Little Fool’s crown made him flinch. “Right! Right. Aha, moving on–– uh the next door leads to the personal quarters of our resident Beast tamers and other champions who’ve decided to stick around. Then there’s the Loading Area where we send the opponents up top to the arena. Then there’s the Control Room where we change the arena’s layout––y’know, like the spike floors, the platforms and such. Then that there leads to what the Beast tamers call: the ‘Kennel’; it’s where a lot of the Colosseum’s fighting creatures are bred and raised, as well as where they train the wild critters that were recently captured how to fight.”

The Little Fool jumped as the Knight swiftly dragging them along, apparently the last door mentioned was the place they wanted to go, for whatever reason that the Little Fool could not hope to fathom.

He prayed that Lord Fool would protect him from whatever wrath was emanating from the Knight that held him hostage.

***

The siblings were doing their best to keep their spirits up despite their current situation. 

After the same Beast tamer from before had returned, he had let the three Vessels out and had promptly given them each a broom, a duster made from whisper grass tied together with cordage, and a bucket of some-what clean water with a clump of moss floating in it before setting them immediately to work.

“If you squibs don’t want to become mulch, I better see that this place is spotless by the time I return.” the Beast tamer had stated before latching a chain leash to Gritten’s muzzle and taking the struggling Grimmchild to somewhere else, leaving the three little ones alone.

Now, the trio of Vessels had never needed to clean anything in their young lives and thus did not know what exactly they were supposed to do with the tools they’d been given. Usually, if there ever was a mess––like for example: an errant clay bowl had fallen on the floor and shattered, then Quirrel or Hornet would pick up the pieces and toss it somewhere out of the way or burn it in the fireplace. Vessels, due to their nature, were just not that very messy in comparison to other youngling bugs. 

Also due to their nature, Vessels intrinsically felt the compulsion to obey an order to the best of their ability, even if said Vessels were prone to distraction or forgetfulness. So, like obedient little children, they attempted to do the task that was appointed to them to the best of their ability.

But also like little children, they were prone to distraction. So, it was no surprise that no less than five minutes later, they had done the exact opposite of cleaning.

Whilst the three siblings had tried to sweep the floor ineffectively with their brooms, Tiny had accidentally knocked over the bucket and spilt water all over the floor, which quickly led to the siblings throwing wet moss sponges at each other and slipping and sliding around the room. 

The moss ball fight only stopped when one of the sopping wet moss sponges hit one of the captive creatures held in the cages, causing it to hiss and chitter angrily at them. 

The siblings weren’t sure what to do with the dusters at first. Three discretely stashed their’s in their Inventory, but Two and Tiny thought maybe the dusters were bundles of food for the caged creatures, but there wasn’t enough grass to go around, so everyone got a single dried blade of whisper grass each.

Not all the animals seemed to be satisfied with this. A few nibbled on or played this the grass, most just ignored it, but one critter—some weird looking Belfly—had somehow managed to transform its blade of grass into a makeshift lock-pick, and within moments it had popped the door to its cage free before clambering out and flying up onto the rafters. 

_”Listen!”_ The odd looking Belfly whispered at the children below. _”Listen, listen, big jaws come to steal the crying children! Be warned, be warned, their destinies are not unchecked!”_

The siblings traded confused glances with each other, but when they looked up again the strange Belfly was already gone.

“YOU THEIF!” A shrill voice screeched from behind them, causing all three siblings to jump and whirl around.

“You little thieves!” A scrawny bug pointed an accusatory claw at the children; she was garbed in olive green tatters and her head was encapsulated in a white helmet that split down the middle and possessed four eye-holes situated in a diamond pattern on either side.

“You pale-faced, hollowed-eyed squibs! The key is mine! The treasure is mine, you got it?! ALL MINE!”

The siblings backed away as the crazy bug advanced threateningly, they had no idea what the bug was talking about, but Tiny and Two both shot Three suspicious looks.

Three pointedly pretended to act as though they were just a clueless, keeping their gaze trained innocently on the crazy bug.

“I know one of you took it! Where is it?! WHERE HAS MY KING GONE?!” 

The children scattered in different directions just as the Pale Lurker threw a glittering gold projectile that hit the space where they were just standing, the gold object shook as spikes erupted from its core.

The captive creatures went into an uproar in their prisons, frenzied and panicked as the perpetrator threw spike balls around the room. Some of the projectiles landed on the cages and split them open, allowing the creatures within to roam free once more.

“THIEVES! ALL OF YOU!” The manic bug cried as her arms flailed about, overturning stacks of empty cages as she leapt about the wreckage in search for the thieves.

The siblings had taken refuge behind a few sturdy crates, keeping quiet and hoping that the deranged bug would eventually give up and leave.

“What is going on in here?!” The voice of the Beast gamer demanded as he came bathing back into the Kennel area with Gritten in tow. The Grimmchild was still muzzled and being led along by a chain.

The Pale Lurker halted her crazed rampage and cocked her head over her shoulder as the Beast tamer furiously cursed and shouted.

“You degenerate worm! What did I tell you about coming up here whilst the beasts are being processed?! Look at what you’ve caused; this place is a disaster! If you weren’t the God Tamer’s sister I would’ve had you locked up in a chest and thrown down into the acid lakes ages ago!”

“Shut it, spit tamer!” The Pale Lurker cussed back with undaunted cattiness. “One of your cheeky lot stole my precious! That which is rightfully mine! The King entrusted the Key to me! ME!” 

Just then the door across the room creaked open a crack as a head poked in; every creature stopped and turned to look at the new arrival.

“Ah–uh, is this a bad time?” Little Fool inquired nervously.

The Beast tamer’s eyes widened in incredulity. “Little Fool! Who freed you from your chains?”

The Little Fool raised a shaky hand and looked as though he were about to reply, but the door was shoved fully open and allowed the two arrivals to be in full view.

“ _Mrrph!_ ” Gritten’s chain rattled as they flew in an excited circle. The siblings also poked their heads out of hiding as they spotted their rescuer.

Ghost had the edge of their nail pressed firmly against the Little Fool’s body, as they ushered the trembling bug further into the room by their side.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Beast tamer growled, sizing up the intruder with caution. He was sure he recognized the pale-faced warrior, though it seemed to have grown a bit since the last time it came to blaze through the Trials. 

“Heyahahack! Little Fool’s being held hostage, you fool! Even I can see that!” The Pale Lurker cackled, hopping from side to side in maddened glee. “The little warrior wants something, yes? WELL YOU CAN’T HAVE IT! IT’S MINE!” 

With lightning quick speed, the Pale Lurker launched a spike ball straight at the Knight with the intention of skewering them, not caring whether the Little Fool was killed in the process or not. 

To her dismay, the Knight merely deflected the glimmering ball with a well timed strike of their nail, sending the ball straight back to the mad bug where it struck her in the chest and triggered the spikes within to whip out.

The Pale Lurker hit the floor, the spikes miraculously avoided piercing directly into her shell and instead sank into the wood floor, effectively pinning her in place as she screeched in anger.

Nobody moved to help the Pale Lurker as Ghost stared daggers at the Beast tamer holding the chained Grimmchild, who was trying valiantly to pull itself free and get to Ghost. 

The Beast tamer got the hint, and unclasped the metal muzzle, letting Gritten fly free. 

As soon as the silent altercation was agreed upon, the three siblings scrambled out of their hiding place and quickly ran to stand by Ghost’s side. Ghost had a wave of relief wash over them at seeing that they were unharmed, but outwardly remained cold and unwavering.

For a few seconds, the Knight and the Beast tamer stared each-other down, the Beast tamer’s eyes were narrowed in anger at having his quarry taken from him, and as soon as that Knight turned to leave he was gonna––

Without warning, Ghost hoisted the Little Fool over their head and bodily chucked the screaming bug at the Beast tamer before grabbing the hands of their siblings and bolting back down the way they’d came. 

The Beast tamer had been so caught off guard by the assault that he had no time to dodge out of the way as the Little Fool crashed into him, knocking them both sprawling on the floor in comedic fashion.

The Pale Lurker laughed hysterically at the spectacle, however the Beast tamer was far from amused as he scrambled to his feet and rushed into the other room where he started furiously banging on a gong-like bell that resounded through-out the Colosseum. 

Ghost and the others went rushing down the narrow corridor that led into the warrior’s pit, but just as the doorway came into sight, iron bars slammed down and blocked the way. There were similar sounds echoing down the halls as doors elsewhere slammed shut as well. Colosseum was going into lockdown.

Ghost could hear the shouts and yells from the fool warriors who had awakened at the bell’s alarm, and the clanking of armor clad bodies rushing about resounded all around them. 

They were trapped, and it wouldn’t take long before the fools found them. Although Ghost was a frighteningly skilled fighter––the close quarters would make movement rather limited and their younger siblings would risk being caught in the crossfire.

Good thing Ghost had the Awakened Dream nail always in their Inventory.

Gathering their siblings closer to them and motioning for Gritten to latch onto their head, Ghost unsheathed the mystical artifact and held it aloft. Power instantly began to flow through the Dream nail and with a whirring sound of thrumming energy, a bright flash of light encompassed them, and the group was spirited away through the veil of dreams.

***

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t come along?” Quirrel asked for the hundredth time, as they left the Stagstation and into the town square. “I may be wounded, but my diplomatic skills surely have not suffered none in my old age. I don’t like the idea of bugs fighting each-other for sport, but I’m sure they aren’t complete savages.”

Hornet sighed, not bothering to reply as she watched Sly disappear into his shop and Cornifer waddled off towards him and his wife’s house. Sly had agreed to accompany Hornet on the rescue mission to the Colosseum of Fools.

“I may have retired from my life with the nail, but I am still the Great Nailsage! I’ll show those bumbling fools what for! Stealing young squibs and forcing them to fight… it is abhorrent and down right despicable!” He had said whilst on the ride back to Dirtmouth. Now he was retrieving his old nail from his shop’s cellar.

Cornifer unfortunately had no idea what he himself could possibly do to assist in the rescue mission. “I am a Map Maker, not a warrior… I fear that I may be more of a liability than anything else.” He had apologized, but then perked up as he was struck with an idea. “However, perhaps my wife Iselda would be willing to help. She is quite good with the nail.”

“Hornet, are you listening?” Quirrel nagged, causing Hornet to release another pained sigh as she stopped and turned in place to stare pointedly at him.

“Quirrel, for the last time, this is not up for debate. You cannot come, and I will tie you to your bed if I must! So don’t––“

There was warped rush of displaced air followed by a bright flash of light, that momentarily blinded Hornet and Quirrel as the two stumbled back in.

“ _Mrew!_ ” Hornet’s vision was obscured by darkness as something slapped onto her face and began purring loudly. 

Hornet did _not_ squeak––she _shouted_ in surprise and pried the phantom menace off of her face and glared dully at it. “Never-mind. It appears that Ghost has already accomplished the mission.” She looked over at the siblings as they dusted themselves off, checking to see if any of them were injured before kneeling down and unabashedly sweeping all three of the little ones in an embrace. “You audacious little grubs! Never worry me like that again.”

Ghost sidled closer to the impromptu sibling hug, and bumped foreheads with Hornet, who batted them half-heatedly upside the head in return. “And you! Little Ghost, I thought we discussed how reckless it is when you dash off on your own.”

“Well, they did rescue the little ones,” Quirrel interjected, smiling warmly at Ghost. “You never cease to amaze me, my friend.” 

Ghost nodded in gratitude at Quirrel’s praise, feeling quite proud of themselves in fact as well as relieved that they’d manage to whisk their siblings away from danger once more.

“Oh, so the Knight already rescued to squibs, hm? Figures.” Sly muttered as he returned from his shop, dragging his oversized nail with him. “You little ones really need to work on defending yourselves so snafus like this quit happening!”

“Indeed.” Hornet agreed as she let go of the three children and stood up. “In fact, I think it is about time we started incorporating training sessions from here on out.”

“Well if you want to get nails for them, you’ll have to pay geo in advance. I’m not running no charity business.” Sly huffed as he went back to his shop.

“It has been a long night,” Quirrel stated once Sly had left. “I say we best be heading to bed, I’m sure the three of you are awfully tired from all the excitement of being…well… abducted and all.”

“Agreed.” Hornet nodded, already heading off towards their Dirtmouth cottage. “I for one have had quite enough excitement, and would appreciate it if no other pressing events were to occur in the near future.” She shot Ghost a pointed look when she said the last part.

Is wasn’t long before everyone was hunkering down for a good long rest, with Quirrel situating himself back in the upstairs bedroom he had been confined to for the past few weeks, and Vessels taking the bed directly below with Gritten roosting on a nearby shelf.

Tiny and Two had promptly fallen asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow, but Three had yet to get in bed and was instead standing nearby and gazing intently at Ghost.

Ghost turned and walked over to their sibling and tilted their head in silent inquiry. Three paused for a heartbeat, before withdrawing something from beneath their cloak and holding it out to Ghost.

The candle light in the room glinted off the dull metal surface of a Simple Key. Ghost looked at Three, then back at the key, surprised and wondering how their sibling had gotten it.

Three seemed to read their mind, and merely shrugged, pressing the key into Ghost’s hands before climbing up the side of the bed and situating themselves snuggly next to Two and Tiny.

Ghost calmly stored the Simple Key in their Inventory and snuffed out the candle with a sweep of their cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In conclusion, Three is the prince of thieves and will steal all that you hold dear, and Belfee makes a cameo only to spout ominous premonitions before leaving the scene like the omen bat that she is.


	6. Intermission: Flowers & Dreams

_…Do they watch us struggle?.._

_Do you haunt my dreams… Or I yours?_

_Little Ghost… What dreams we share…_

Hornet sat bolt upright with a startled gasp, her gaze flicking about the dark room as her heart thundered in her chest before finally she realized where she was. 

She had fallen asleep on the couch in the cottage’s main room, and she softly exhaled a sigh as her frazzled nerves calmed themselves. Had she been dreaming? Was that why she had awoken so suddenly? She hadn’t had a dream in quite some time, not since the Radiance had been defeated. 

This worried her, and she found herself clutching the edge of her cloak in agitation as she struggled to recall the quickly fading memory of the dream. 

She caught a glimpse of a light in her peripheral and glanced towards the staircase, spying the form of Quirrel stepping silently down with a small candle held in one hand.

“I see you are having difficulties sleeping as well,” whispered Quirrel as he made his way towards the kitchen area. “Would you like some tea?”

Hornet did not verbally respond, merely dipping her head and fixating her gaze on the red fabric of her cloak. Her troubled mind was evident in her expression.

It had been some time since the whole fiasco with the siblings being grubnapped had happened, and Quirrel had healed enough that he no longer needed bandages, which was possibly the only good thing to happen all week. 

Ghost had been running off on their own again, spending less time obsessively watching over their three younger siblings–– which at first was taken as a good sign, but then…Ghost started taking longer and longer to return.

A steaming cup of tea was set atop the coffee table before Hornet, and the sofa dipped slightly as Quirrel took the liberty to sit down next to her with his own cup of tea.

Hornet gingerly picked up the offered tea, and for a moment the two merely sat together in companionable silence. 

“Ghost has been gone for over three weeks, haven’t they?” Quirrel mused solemnly aloud, sipping his tea.

Hornet nodded, but remained silent.

“The children seem worried,” Quirrel continued after a moment. “I’ve noticed their lack of energy as of late. It is as though they have grown despondent with the absence of Ghost––they must miss them terribly.” There was a pause, before he gave a sad sigh and murmured. “I certainly miss them…”

Hornet nodded, still having yet to take a sip of her tea, though the aroma wafting up from it seemed to help clear her thoughts a bit. But she remained silent all the same.

“Are you…certain that you do not have an idea as to their whereabouts?” Quirrel asked tentatively.

Hornet shook her head. She had searched high and low for her lost sibling, but had found no trace of them. It was as though they had disappeared off of the face of Hallownest. Her grip around her teacup tightened minutely. Where could that little Ghost have gone? And why?

***

_Whatever it takes…I’ll prove myself!_

_My path is mine alone…_

_Brothers always fight together!_

_Don’t leave me behind!_

Nailmaster Oro was roused from his deep meditative state, the dim light filtering through the skylight above illuminated his surroundings in a pale glow. Something had woken him, but he was not sure exactly what.

He did notice, however, that his brother Mato was no-where to be seen. Since Oro’s home in the Kingdom’s Edge was destroyed by the Muldvarps, he had begrudgingly accepted his brother’s offer to stay at his place in the Howling Cliffs until Oro could rebuild his home.

So, the two had been dwelling in the same house from then on. It was a miracle that the two hadn’t carved each other up with the amount of animosity they held towards each other. 

Nailmaster Oro lifted himself to his feet and retrieved his nail from where it lay propped up against the wall, before walking into the hallway and eventually exiting the hovel entirely.

It did not take long for the disgruntled Nailmaster to spot his brother as he climbed up the rocky outcrop, the wind blowing at the edges of his cloak.

Nailmaster Mato was standing at the peak of the hill, staring out into the distance with an expression of deep thought. In his gloved hand, he held two faintly glowing flowers. 

“What is that rubbish you’ve got there?” Oro queried, his tone suggesting that he really didn’t care, but he secretly was a bit curious as to where his brother came across such delicate things.

Mato glanced over at his brother, then looked at the flowers as if he had just noticed that he was holding them. “Our pupil…they arrived some time ago and gave them to me. I assume that the second one was meant for you.” Mato held out one of the flowers to him.

Oro was equally perplexed by this as Mato was, but he gingerly accepted the flower and looked at it critically. “Hmph, so this gaudy flower is what our pupil’s idea of a gift is then? How unbecoming of them.”

Mato was brought out of his train of thought long enough to shoot a disapproving glare at his sibling. “Honestly, brother,” he returned his gaze to the far distance, “I’ve learned that it is important that we cherish the few precious things left in this world, before they’re gone from us for good…”

***

_What is a god, if not an artist?_

_It’s the greatest power, isn’t it?_

_Are we all seeking something different?_

“Sheo, are you feeling alright?” 

Sheo blinked and glanced up from his painting to see Smith staring quizzically at him from the doorway. “Hm?”

“I asked if you knew where these flowers came from, but you did not reply,” Smith explained, a look of concern briefly flashing across his features.

“Oh,” Sheo blinked again, pausing to put his brush down near his art easel. “My apologies, I must’ve been so engrossed in my work that I zoned out. What is this flower business you mentioned?”

Smith smiled in kind amusement, before walking fully into the hut and showing Sheo the two delicate flowers that he held gently in his claws. 

Sheo’s eyes instantly brightened as he stared in awe at the beauty exuded from the fragile blooms. “Oh my! By the Nailmaster’s Glory, what splendid flora!”

“Fabulous, aren’t they?” Nailsmith agreed full-heartedly. “I found them just lying on the bench outside. I thought maybe we could finally put those clay pots we made to use, and have them house these delicate flowers.”

“That is a good idea; I’ll go and fetch them. Oh, I suddenly feel rush of inspiration coming to me just by gazing upon them…”

***

_Remember… you are brothers…_

_Point your nail at the thing you seek!_

_Dreams of glory…_

“Come now, let us try this again,” Sly urged the three little ones up after the thirtieth time they had fallen over during their training session. “Just like before, follow my lead. That’s it! Raise your nail up high and––Three! Pay attention!”

Whilst Two and Tiny had been trying their best to emulate what Sly was doing, Three was almost completely uncooperative, seeming to sit down mid practice to sulk. Sly didn’t know what was eating at the squib, but it certainly wouldn’t help them become any stronger.

“Two, Tiny! Both of you keep practicing your stances,” he ordered as he slung his own nail over one shoulder and walked up to where Three was sitting. “Three, if you don’t keep practicing, you’ll never learn how to properly defend yourself. I understand that Ghost has been gone for some time now, but that warrior often goes running off on adventures by themselves. You don’t see either Two or the Tiniest acting so torn up about it!”

Three glanced forlornly up at the fly merchant, then looked down at their feet, jabbing their shellwood nail at the ground as if indicating something.

Sly leaned over and with a questioning hum he realized that Three had been scratching things into the dirt. The crude childish drawings made little sense to him, but one doodle caught his eye in particular. 

It was a strange symbol, it looked like a simple depiction of an oval mask with two eye-holes, and a crest that curved into a sharp point in the middle.

“Hmm…” Sly rubbed his chin thoughtfully, feeling as though he somehow recognized the face, yet couldn’t recall as to why. He eventually shook his head and took Three by the hand. “Come on, let’s get back to training now.”

Three glanced back at the drawings they’d made, pointing at them with their shellwood nail, but Sly had stopped paying attention, and so they reluctantly rejoined the training session with their siblings.

***  
 _Do not think…_

_Do not speak…_

_Do not hope…_

_Do not… ___

__…_ _

__The Hollow Knight lifted its head, staring blindly at nothing as slumber drained away from them. They had been dreaming. Dreaming of a time when they were in their prime, strong and deadly; a time from before they had been sealed away with the Old Light. A time when they could see, and had both arms instead of one._ _

__But they were confused, as they recalled that in the dream, they had been in the grips of battle against an equally powerful foe. One of smaller stature…Ghost. But they weren't the only ones there._ _

__Hollow recalled that whilst they fought, their battle was being overseen by a strange being with a golden mask, their form wrapped in cloth like a mummy as they sat on a golden throne, watching the two Vessel’s fight._ _

__Ghost had eventually won the battle–– striking their elder sibling down with a powerful blow–– and then Hollow felt themselves dissipate into a cloud of void. The next thing they knew, the two were standing in the midst of someplace dark, surrounded by their hundreds of thousands of siblings, all alive, and watching as Ghost looked up at Hollow, who was now just barely taller than they were._ _

__Then there was a roar from up above and all the Vessels simultaneously looked up as the sky cracked and revealed the Radiance’s blinding light screaming down on them––only this time, something roared back, as the Void came rushing up to greet the incoming light head-on, smothering all the Vessels from sight._ _

__That was when the Hollow Knight had awoken from the dream, and for once, the darkness did not bring them comfort._ _

__The Abyss was writhing. Something big was coming to Hallownest, and it was not gonna be anything good._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourselves. because now we're getting into the meat of Godmaster territory.


	7. Pantheon of the Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! But hey, its not short this time! So there's that.

Ghost had wasted no time in returning to the glamorously chained coffin at the bottom of the Junk pit, eager to see what treasures awaited within the golden tomb’s confines.

They had left as soon as Three had given them the Simple Key, and did not bother with telling anyone as to where they were going. Not that they could tell anyone, really. 

Though, on hindsight, Ghost supposed they could have at least done something in an effort to convey that they were ‘going out’. Perhaps they could have made an unnecessary detour upstairs into Quirrel’s room, just so Quirrel would bear witness to them jumping out the window in a convoluted way of saying “I have vacated the premises” without needing to say anything at all.

Or they could’ve just left a note. But Ghost wasn’t that much of a writer, and only wrote a few words at a time, often when naming a new location on their map. 

Oh well, it was too late anyways.

Ghost climbed up over the hill of garbage and slid down the other side to where the immaculate gold coffin lay, undisturbed from whence they had first discovered it. 

Trotting up to it, the young Knight retrieved the Simple Key from within their Inventory and stood on the very tips of their clawed toes to reach the keyhole.

There was a satisfying click as the key turned and unlocked the coffin, before suddenly dissipating into a shower of sparks. 

Ghost leapt back as the chains around the coffin began to glow a bright white, before they too shattered into sparkling motes. The top half of the coffin split open, revealing the upper body of a large bug with a golden mask.

Ghost watched as the bug’s body fell forward and collapsed onto the garbage covered ground with a loud thump. Apparently deceased.

Something had fallen out from the strange bug’s grasp, landing just beside Ghost, who knelt down to inspect it.

Upon absorbing it into their Inventory, Ghost was soon enlightened on the object’s significance.

They instantly dubbed the peculiar object the Godtuner, a device that resonated with beings of great power, and on the back of the device there was an inscription:

_Seek the gods of Hallownest. Tune their power. Through their strength, ascend._

Ghost pondered over the meaning of the words, but wherever the knowledge of the things they collected came from, it did not further expound any more detailed information.

Ghost stood up and looked at the fallen corpse that now lay in a heap amongst the garbage. They noticed the ethereal dream motes floating about its golden crested mask, and Ghost was quick to make a connection.

Drawing out the Dreamnail, the young Knight focussed their energy through the mystical talisman. Once the blade of light was conjured, Ghost struck the head of the corpse.

The veil between dreams parted before them as white light overcame their vision, and a feeling of weightlessness suddenly grasped their form. 

For what felt like an eternity, Ghost floated in a sea of gold and white, before a voice suddenly shouted within their mind.

_**Blasphemy! Rank blasphemy!** _

_**Thou crawler! Thou cringer! Thou smallest of the small!** _

_**By what right dost thou trespass here, in this home of the Gods? Shrivel away and begone! Begone!** _ ********

********

More intrigued than dissuaded, Ghost felt themselves finally materialize within the dream realm where they were confronted with structures unlike any other they’d ever seen before.

********

Golden and bronze pillars rose from a bright cloudy expanse, acting as a kind of bridge. Beyond lay a colonnade - a row of columns of similar build supporting what appeared to be some kind of temple. 

********

Ghost braced themselves before leaping atop the nearest pillar, hopping from one to the next in an eager dash to explore the place’s interior. 

********

Normally whenever they had gone into the dream realm, (whether by choice or not), the landscape was pockmarked with broken buildings and floating landmasses surrounded by free standing street lamps and the occasional dream catcher. This place — This _Godhome_ was the most stable looking establishment Ghost had ever seen in the dream realm.

********

Upon alighting in front of the temple, Ghost noticed for the first time that the place was not uninhabited. 

********

Sitting casually nearby were two strangely garbed beings. They were short and stout, their forms completely concealed by cloth wrappings and their faces hidden by crested golden masks.

********

Ghost moved towards them, but the strange beings did nothing more than glance in their direction, making no attempts to speak or strike up a conversation. 

********

Curious as to what was on their minds, Ghost discreetly took out their Dreamnail and swept a cursory glance at surface thoughts of the beings.

********

_”…A bridge…”_

********

_”Seek… power…”_

********

Ghost was puzzled to say the least, deciding it was best to move on and let the strange beings be, choosing to move deeper into the temple. 

********

They came across a hallway lined with three large doors, and as they passed by they read the titles etched above each doorway.

********

Pantheon of the Master: Seek the Gods of Nail and Shell.

********

Pantheon of the Artist: Seek the God Inspired.

********

And finally…

********

Pantheon of the Sage: Seek the God of Wealth and Power.

********

Beyond that, the floor abruptly dropped to reveal another floor just a short distance below; there were no signs of there having been any form of staircase, other than a few patches of levitating stone platforms. 

********

Across the way was another hall, which was barred by a gloriously glinting gate. Peering past the bars, Ghost could just make out yet another door, but they couldn’t read the inscription on it from their limited viewpoint. 

********

Ghost realized after a few testing strikes at the golden bars that there was no getting past the gate at present, so they decided to head down to the bottom floor.

********

At the bottom, Ghost came across more of the strange beings, one in particular was seated by the edge of a pool of glimmering water. 

********

_”Our mind… a sea…”_ , came the being’s thoughts as the young Knight passed the Dream nail over them. 

********

The glimmering water was beautiful in a sense, reflecting the golden light that bounced off the equally golden pillars. Ghost noted wryly to themselves that everything in Godhome seemed to be over saturated in _gold,_ and they couldn’t think of any other way to describe the place.

********

They were loathe to admit that they were a little unnerved by how bright it was, it reminded them too much of when they had confronted the Radiance. The bright, golden, light of the bringer of the dawn. The sun. 

********

Ghost turned and moved deeper into the temple’s lower atrium, seeking the familiar shadows of the shade. Though it was still marginally brighter than any place Ghost had been to, in comparison to the rest of Godhome, it was darker.

********

There they came across two more doors. One lay open, whilst another was locked shut, with an arch of notches adorning its surface and a small opening in the center that allowed a faint glow of blue light to drift through.

********

Ghost pressed a hand against the locked door, sensing a strong presence of Lifeblood behind it. They wanted to see what was in there, but the door remained an immovable obstacle in their way, denying them entry. 

********

Disheartened, Ghost moved on and entered the unlocked door beside it, and found themselves in a darkened chamber.

********

There was a tablet nearby with faintly glowing words painted across its surface. Ghost read the words: The Hall of Gods.

********

As soon as they had read the name, shafts of light suddenly flicked on, causing the young Knight to look sharply to the once darkened room. 

********

They saw the silhouette of a bloated Gruz Mother in the midst of hurtling towards them, and they swiftly drew their nail in preparation for a fight.

********

A few seconds went by, and the Gruz Mother hadn’t moved. 

********

Ghost realized sheepishly that it was because the thing before them was not a Gruz Mother, but in fact a statue depicting a silhouette of a Gruz Mother in mid charge. On the plinth below the statue was an inscription.

********

_”Slumbering god of fertility”_

********

Feeling a little foolish, Ghost sheathed their nail and moved past the Gruz Mother to see what other statues the Hall of Gods held.

********

They came across many familiar foes, such as the Vengefly King: Vicious god of territories; the Brooding Malek: Lonely god of the nest; the False Knight: Angry god of the downtrodden, and when they struck the Dreammote symbol beside it, the statue shifted into the Failed Champion: Baleful god of regrets.

********

The next statue they came upon made them stop in their tracks. Hornet the Protector: God protector of a fading land. There was a switch beside the plinth and upon striking it the statue of Hornet the Protector shifted into Hornet the Sentinel - the inscription being the only thing that remained the same. 

********

The young Knight came to the dawning realization that this Hall of Gods had somehow catalogued every single major battle that Ghost had ever fought during their journey into Hallownest. The statues felt almost like trophies, as Ghost had indeed defeated every single one.

********

When the got to the next floor however, they realized that not all the plinths had statues atop them. From the brief glance over at the mostly blank inscriptions, Ghost had a feeling that they would have to fight these gods at the peak of their respective pantheons in order for their statues to appear in the Hall of Gods.

********

***

********

Ghost chose to enter the first door they had come across in Godhome — the Pantheon of the Master. Upon choosing to do so, the door slid open, bathing the Knight in gloriously bright light that made them inwardly wish they had possessed eyelids to protect the void substance within their eye sockets from writhing painfully.

********

They steeled themselves however, and resolutely stepped forward into the blinding luminescence. Their vision going white.

********

_**Wretch! Thou hast ordained thine own destruction!**_

********

A lofty voice thrummed in outrage at them as Ghost found themselves floating once more in a great nothingness of white, unable to do anything but listen to the voice berate and belittle them.

********

_**Through sacred combat are We attuned to this Kingdom’s greatest beings. By entering this gate thou hast challenged the very Gods of this Kingdom!**_

********

_**Dost thou consider thyself the equal of this pantheon, of its masters? Draw thy weapon then, fool of fools, and be damned for thy arrogance!**_

********

The light around them pulsed and Ghost felt a force wrench them out of the anti-abyss of white and transported onto solid ground.

********

At first, Ghost thought they had been chucked back out the door, but upon hearing the deafening roar of a Vengefly King, they thought otherwise. 

********

Quickly getting to their feet, Ghost looked around at their new surroundings, realizing that they had been transported into a Godhome-esk arena, with dozens of those golden masked beings watching from the safety of the sidelines.

********

Upon a tall throne amongst them, sat a figure of taller stature, similarly garbed from head to foot in cloth wrappings and wearing an immaculate golden mask. Her mask was much more elaborate than the smaller beings, with a more exaggerated crest that reminded Ghost of the shape of the Godtuner device.

********

Another shriek of the Vengefly King brought Ghost’s attention back to more pressing matters. They drew their nail and fell into a battle stance. They had fought Vengefly Kings before, this battle would be easy.

********

The Vengefly King flew backwards gnashing its pincers menacingly, before it lowered its head and dove straight for the Knight.

********

If Ghost had been capable of it, they would have grinned.

********

***

********

The rush of adrenaline was exhilarating, Ghost dashed and twirled around their foes in a deadly dance of nails and spells, they felt almost giddy. They had missed the thrill of battle.

********

After each was battle won, the imposing figure on the throne would look up at the heavens and the arena would erupt into a wash of light as Ghost felt themselves thrown into yet another fight with a different opponent. Each opponent had their own stylized arena, and if Ghost had the time to they would have admired the details of the scenery.

********

The Massive Moss Charger, an enemy that Ghost had nearly forgotten that they had once fought during their travels through Greenpath. The creature was fairly easy to fight. It may have been made up of multiple bugs, but its attacks were straight forward and primitive in comparison to other warriors.

********

Ghost quickly dispatched the Moss Charger’s flimsy defense and the bugs that made it up quickly scattered, scurrying away before Ghost had the chance to hit them on the way out.

********

Ghost was practically bouncing on their feet at this point, rearing to go, ready for the next fight as the scene changed once more.

********

Their enthusiasm quickly took a sharp nose dive upon seeing the arena that materialized. Silken threads were woven everywhere, sticking to the ground and sides of the arena, and then there was a flash of red and a shadow dropped down from the ceiling.

********

“Engarde!”

********

Within a split second Ghost had to leap to the side just before Hornet’s needle could impale them, her needle grazing the edge of their cloak as it zipped past. 

********

Spurred into action, Ghost sparred against Hornet, instinctively changing the angle of their strikes to only hit with the nonlethal, flat side of their blade. All the while, Ghost was simultaneously assessing Hornet’s reactions as they fought, and they realized quickly that Hornet’s fighting style was somewhat subdued. 

********

It nagged at the back of Ghost’s mind, something wasn’t right, and how did Hornet get into Godhome? Was it really Hornet that they were sparring against or some fake facsimile? 

********

More than ever, Ghost wished that they had a voice to call out to their sister; to ask her what was going on. 

********

Hornet suddenly leapt in the air and let loose a flurry of thread slicing the air around her, and Ghost flinched back as one of the threads sliced into them. Granted, Ghost’s shell wasn’t as soft as it once was but it still hurt, and in retaliation they released a blast of shade soul that made Hornet stagger backwards.

********

It finally occurred to the Knight that Hornet wasn’t sparring, but fighting as though they were an enemy to be cut down. 

********

That’s when it clicked. Hornet’s subdued fighting style was similar to the time when they had first encountered one another in Greenpath. Upon this revelation, Ghost was filled with a confused sense of nostalgia and unease.

********

Dashing forward, Ghost pushed their disconcerting thoughts aside in favor of falling into the comfortable routine of battle. 

********

The fight ended quickly enough, with Hornet crying out as she was struck by a particularly hard hit by the pure nail, the strike flinging her off her feet where she landed in a heap a few feet away. 

********

Ghost immediately stopped, momentarily worried that they’d gone too far. But to their relief, Hornet shakily got to her feet, her shoulders hunched in anger and breath coming in quick, harsh hisses as she glared at Ghost.

********

The arena was abruptly washed in light, the imperious figure spectating apparently judging the battle to have been won, despite Ghost choosing not to finish Hornet off.

********

When the light faded, Ghost found themselves not in an arena but in a small room with a hot spring and a bench nearby. There were a few of those golden masked beings lounging idly by the far wall.

********

Ghost decided to shrug off their initial confusion and gratefully dipped themselves into the hot spring. 

********

For a blissful few moments, Ghost bathed in the warm, healing waters — ignoring the two onlookers who shared the room with them. But Ghost did not linger long, lest their conscience bombard them with troubling feelings of concern and paranoia about what sinister things could be at work in Godhome.

********

They got up once they were fully healed and quickly moved towards the open doorway at the end of the room, eager to see what opponents awaited beyond.

********

***

********

Their opponents, like before, consisted of familiar faces. There was Gorb, the Brooding Mawlek and even the Dung Defender, who when once defeated was launched into the air in an explosion of dung before falling on top of the crowd of spectators watching the fight. The sight was quite comical. 

********

And then, once the light spirited them away again, they suddenly found themselves in a dim corridor.

********

Before them, the tall figure of the one golden masked being stood, her gaze tilted upwards as she hummed. Ghost instantly recognized the voice of the one who had first scorned them upon entering the pantheon. 

********

Ghost stepped forward, questions hovering in their mind as they hoped that the being would give them further insight on what exactly was going on. 

********

They stopped just short of reaching the figure when she sharply looked down at them, her eyes glaring with derision.

********

“Why hast thou crept into this pantheon, o meagre one?” Said she. “The noise of thine wriggling creates much discord, drowning out the godly resonances we attune Ourselves to!”

********

She loomed judgmentally over the young Knight, squinting dubiously down at them. “Dost thou mean to thwart our sacred goal? Dost envy drive thou to such madness? We pray that the Gods of this Kingdom punish thee, obliterate thee, utterly destroy thee!”

********

When the _meagre one_ didn’t respond to her raving other than blankly staring at her, she drew herself up with a huff of contempt. 

********

“Creep on, meagre one, and may the Gods utterly destroy thee!” She repeated, before returning to her humming mantra towards the ceiling.

********

Ghost discreetly walked past her, but paused to use the Dreamnail. 

********

_“O Gods of Hallownest, show Us your might! We shall attune Ourselves to thee and ascend ever higher!”_

********

More of that ‘ascending’ talk. Ghost was distantly reminded of a certain dream warrior. That strange, big-headed, worm-like being had ranted similar things about ascending. 

********

Moving on, Ghost passed through into the next room with a flash of light.

********

***

********

When their new surroundings appeared, they first noticed the many large nails imbedded in the ground around the area. The second thing they noticed was the large maroon-clad figure sitting meditatively a few feet away.

********

“Eh?” Nailmaster Oro roused from his meditation upon sensing the young Knight’s presence. He took took one look at Ghost, and then was on his feet so fast that Ghost actually took a step back.

********

“GAAAHHSSOH!” Nailmaster Oro bellowed his war-cry— and to Ghost’s shock and amazement — leapt into the air with unnatural agility for a bug of his size, and slammed down with his nail aimed for Ghost’s head.

********

Ghost was so caught up in the moment that they just barely dodged out of the way of the devastating strike. The great nail Oro wielded cracked a fissure into the stone floor with the force of his swing.

********

Ghost hopped backwards to avoid another slash of the great nail, attempting to gain a bit of distance from their old teacher to get a chance to rally themselves.

********

When Ghost had paid the anti-social Nailmaster to teach them his Nail Art, Oro had made Ghost use the practice dummy outside his hut as a sparring partner, occasionally giving the young Knight gruff pointers and corrections until the Knight eventually learned how to execute a perfect Dash Slash.

********

Ghost had never sparred against Oro, but the thought of fighting their old teacher sent a thrill of excitement through them. Eager were they to test their strength on one of the three Nailmasters in a real fight.

********

When Oro got within range, Ghost shadow dashed through him when he made to lunge, materializing directly behind the Nailmaster and delivering a blow to his back. 

********

The blow barely caused the great beetle to shift, it was like hitting a bolder with a stick. For their trouble, Ghost was harshly backhanded by the flat of Oro’s nail, sending them sprawling to the ground.

********

“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to pierce this shell, pupil.” Nailmaster Oro huffed indifferently, advancing towards the stunned Knight. 

********

Ghost rolled to the side, just as Oro’s nail struck the ground where they had been laying, they leapt to their feet and dodged a follow up strike. 

********

“I thought I taught you more than simply dodging about like a frightened Hopper, pupil! Show me that you are worthy of holding the charm of the Nailmaster’s Glory!” Oro roared. He was taunting them, Ghost knew, but they still felt a spark of fire ignite within them as they dashed forward with renewed vigor.

********

Ghost pressed their assault, slashing and trading nail strikes with the Nailmaster. Two nails— one great, one pure— clashed and locked together as Ghost peered up at their old teacher with determination in their gaze. 

********

Oro disengaged from the Knight with a grunt, leaping back and landing at the far end of the arena before crouching into a familiar stance.

********

Silvery white energy charged around Oro as he focused his signature Nail Art— Ghost swiftly following suite, matching his stance.

********

Oro dashed forward as did Ghost, the two hurtling towards each-other. At the last split second, they both released the coiled energy channeled within their nails. 

********

There was a massive clang as Ghost’s shade cloak allowed them to phase past Oro’s Dash Slash and execute their own powerful slash at pointblank. The blow connected, and the Nailmaster grunted in both pain and surprise as the force of the blow sent him stumbling backwards.

********

He managed to land roughly on his feet with a loud thud, digging the end of his nail into the ground, his head bowed.

********

For a moment, Ghost thought they had won. But that victory was short lived, as a nearly identical figure suddenly appeared seeminly out of no where and landed beside Oro.

********

The two Nailmasters met eyes with one another, a flash of something passed between them in silent agreement, before both Nailmasters stood and bellowed twin war-cries.

********

Ghost steeled themselves in preparation to battle both Nailmaster Oro, and Nailmaster Mato. The fight had just gotten more interesting.

********

In a trice, the three charged towards each other — two against one might have seemed unfair to some, but to Ghost it was merely an extra challenge. They’d fought multiple enemies before, and knew how to swiftly weave between foes that were much larger than they were.

********

They skillfully dodged around the two brothers’ heavy strikes, getting in a few hits here and there whenever Ghost saw an opening. 

********

Despite having numbers against them, the two Nailmasters fought surprisingly fair, with one brother moving in to attack at close quarters whilst the other hung back, at first appearing as though to be taking turns as to not overwhelm the Knight.

********

Then Ghost made the mistake of getting caught in between the two, and Ghost realized too late that the act was not out of a sense of fairness, but a strategic move. 

********

When Mato had leapt into the air to flog his pupil with an overhead strike, Ghost dashed away before drawing up short as they came face to face with Oro, and when they glanced over their shoulder Mato was already standing poised with a cunning glint in his eyes.

********

Ghost was taken by surprise when both Nailmasters executed a twin double slash from both sides, catching Ghost in the middle and unable to run in either direction. The crack of nail against shell sent the Knight’s vision spinning as they scrambled to avoid the swinging blades. 

********

Dazed and in pain, Ghost watched through blurred vision as both Nailmasters launched themselves into the air and swung both nails down to finish the Knight off. 

********

Before the attack hit home, an Abyssal shriek blasted up to meet the Nailmasters head on, the power of the spell blowing the two brothers away. 

********

Both Nailmasters landed heavily on either side of the young Knight, their shells and armor scorched and smoking in a few places. Ghost waited pensively for their next move.

********

Mato and Oro suddenly stood up, before bowing towards their pupil with respect. 

********

“Well done, pupil.” Mato commended with a wink.

********

Ghost couldn’t help but swell with pride at the compliment from their self-appointed parent, as well as teacher, and they bowed to the twin Nailmasters in return.

********

Light soon swallowed the arena and Ghost’s vision became filled with white as they were spirited away once more, the forms of Nailmaster Mato and Nailmaster Oro disappearing from view.

********

***

********

When their vision cleared, they were standing outside the door of the pantheon, and in their hand was the Godtuner. The device glowed faintly with power.

********

Ghost still had many questions, questions about what the purpose of Godhome was; what the Godtuner was, and why did it need the power of defeated Gods. 

********

They didn’t know what answers awaited them, but they were determined to find out. For now, they were going to return back home before their family noticed they were gone.

********

They hopped across the large pillars and landed atop the glowing runic circle that acted as the gateway between the waking world and the dream realm, kneeling down and pressing their hand against the symbols as they mentally willed themselves to exit the dream realm.

********

With a flash of dream motes, Ghost teleported out of Godhome and returned to the Junk pit.

********

Once they shook off the brief dizziness from passing through the dreamgate, Ghost immediately noticed something was amiss.

********

The body of the giant bug that had fallen out of the golden coffin had moved, and was now laying curled up in the fetal position as it shuttered.

********

“Hallowed… land… tune… gods…” The bug said between gasps. 

********

Ghost was honestly surprised, they had never entered the dream realm through the mind of a living bug before. This new development added yet another thing to wonder about in the growing pile of questions Ghost was beginning to accumulate over the course of their excursion.

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This all took place before the intermission of the last chapter.


	8. Pantheon of the Artist

When Ghost got back to Dirtmouth, folk were already milling about town, much to their surprise. They hadn’t realized that they’d been gone for the entire night. 

As they casually strode down the street that would lead them to their cottage, Ghost thought about the strange bug that was in the Junk pit.

They had tried to interact with the large bug, but she just kept shivering and murmuring to herself as if stuck in a fevered dream — going on and on about ‘seeking the gods’ and how they must ‘ascend’. Ghost had eventually given up, and decided that they would have to try again later.

These ‘Godseekers’ — as Ghost decided to mentally dub them — were certainly intent on any being that could possibly be considered ‘godly’ in Hallownest.

Ghost wondered if the Godseekers knew anything about the Higher beings, or if the Godseekers themselves were Higher beings…

“Greetings, Ghost.” 

Ghost paused and looked up, spotting Hornet standing nearby, her form illuminated by a nearby street lamp. They hadn’t even heard her approach, so preoccupied were they in their thoughts.

Ghost then recalled the battle they had fought with Hornet, and for a brief moment they wondered if she knew. 

“I see that you’ve returned from another one of your spontaneous ventures,” Hornet continued, her tone was casual, but her eyes squinted slightly in thinly veiled suspicion.

For a moment, Ghost was certain that she knew what they had been up to, and for some reason the thought of Hornet discovering the existence of the Godseekers worried them.

“I hope that you at least avoided causing trouble down there this time.” Hornet finally said with a sigh, and Ghost’s worry subsided a fraction. Perhaps she didn’t know. 

***

Some time later, Ghost returned to the Junk pit, this time using a short cut they had found situated below where the Nailsmith’s old hut dwelled. Through there they also came across a _sentient_ type of Fluke; a Fluke Hermit.

But that was not important. What was important was the state of the Godseeker in the Junk pit.

She still remained the same as Ghost had left her, and despite Ghost’s attempts to communicate with her, she didn’t show even the slightest sign that she was aware of the Knight’s presence.

Ghost wondered if maybe using the Dreamnail on her would shed further light upon what her condition was. 

Ghost had expected a few things upon using the Dreamnail on the Godseeker, that perhaps they would glean some insight by reading the Godseeker’s thoughts, or at least be transported into Godhome once again. What they did not expect was to be transported into the middle of some desolate wasteland.

Instead of golden light greeting them, Ghost found themselves in the midst of the unknown; wind howling across the crags and rocks, blowing clouds of dust in its wake. 

Ghost recognized this place. They could only scarcely recall their time stranded out in the wastelands beyond Hallownest, but they remembered the sound of the howling winds and the dark hostile landscape of the mindless. 

“Oohh…hh..”

Ghost tensed, looking around themselves until their gaze landed on a nearby cave where they assumed the sound had come from. Cautiously, Ghost moved toward the mouth of the cave and peered inside. 

Though it was dark, they could still plainly see the shivering figure that seemed to have pressed themselves into the very wall in an attempt to hide. Ghost caught a glimpse of the crested mask, and knew that it was the Godseeker.

“Gods of Our future. Seek thee, We shall…” the Godseeker wailed to herself as she trembled. “To devote Our all…”

Ghost moved further into the cave, standing before the huddled form of the Godseeker and tilting their head up in silent inquiry.

“These winds carry Us to thee, dear Gods…What gods, to save Us of Our silent mind?” The Godseeker spoke, though whether it was in response to Ghost’s questioning air or merely more ramblings to herself, they didn’t know.

When it seemed that the Godseeker would say no more, Ghost turned their attention to the back of the cave.

There was something there amongst the rocks, and upon closer inspection Ghost realized that it was some kind of device, old and battered, perhaps it was an older model of the Godtuner that they now possessed.

Suddenly the cave around them rumbled; loose rocks and dust fell from the ceiling and the floor shifted beneath them, before everything was engulfed in a bright wave of golden light.

**_Savage! Intruder! No right thou hast to trespass within such sacred memory! Begone! Begone!_ **

After the voice of the Godseeker was done screaming at them, Ghost found themselves shunted into the midst of Godhome once more.

They stood up, wondering distantly as to what that was all about, before making their way across the bridge of pillars towards the temple.

***

**_Thou most ungrateful of blemishes! The Gods in their great mercy allow thee to escape their first pantheon alive, yet still thee think to test thineself against their might?_ **

Upon entering the next pantheon — the Pantheon of the Artist — Ghost was once again bombarded by the righteous anger of the Godseeker. 

**_Doom thyself then, that We may resume Our focus and ascend Our minds ever higher!_ **

The light faded, and Ghost was presented to a new arena, and this time they were greeted by the dream ghost of Xero, whom immediately began casting his ethereal blades at them.

Ghost proceeded to fight another slew of familiar foes; the Crystal Guardian, the Soul Master, the Oblobble couple, and even the Mantis Lords.

Ghost had been wanting to challenge the infamous warrior Mantis Lords again, but having already defeated the Lords in combat did not facilitate the need for rematches. But in Godhome, Ghost could fight them once more.

After a brief moment of reprieve in the break room, Ghost fought on, but their sense of exhilaration did not last long.

The sight of Nosk was enough to extinguish any fun Ghost had felt during the rush of battle. The fiendish mimic was already in its true form when Ghost entered the arena, the only exception being the upside down visage of a Vessel’s mask and the rags of its cloak hanging off the creature’s neck.

Ghost felt indignation at seeing Nosk again, why couldn’t this nightmarish creature just die and quit haunting them? It was an outrage that the horrible thing was even considered a ‘God’ by the Godseekers. 

Rage began to boil within Ghost’s veins, as they dodged a charging attack from the creature. Their grip on the hilt of their nail tightened until the very shell of their claws creaked.

Nosk. The one who led a countless number of innocent bugs astray within its tunnels, using the facade of loved ones to trick them into having hope.

Nosk. The one who dared to wear the shell of a fellow Vessel to lure more Vessels into its lair.

Nosk. The one who lured many of Ghost’s nameless siblings to their deaths.

Nosk sprayed globs of acid about the arena, but Ghost didn’t care when the stuff seared their shell. They dashed forward with reckless abandon, slashing into the softer underbelly of the creature and slinging spell after spell at it. Their vision having long since gone red with fury.

They remembered when they had first encountered Nosk, thinking that it was another Vessel, chasing after it in a desperate attempt to unite themselves with one of the siblings they had forgotten, only to finally catch up to it and come face to face with a horrible monster.

They remembered seeing the bodies hanging from the ceiling of Nosk’s cove like trophies, seeing the faces of fellow Vessels, realizing that all of them were dead. It was a joke. A cruel, hideously disfigured joke.

It had been like Nosk was mocking them, taunting them with a glimmer of the thing the young Knight had been searching for and dangling it in front of their face, only to rip it away.

Ghost _hated_ Nosk.  
Ghost had felt resentment towards the Pale King; betrayal towards the White Lady; and a sense of fiery determination to defeat the Radiance so that Hallownest would be free of the Infection.

But Nosk was the only creature that Ghost felt an unadulterated _hatred_ for. 

One more great slash of their blade, and Ghost practically cleaved Nosk’s false head from its shoulders, where it landed on the ground with a hollow thunk; orange blood sprayed across the arena like a morbid fountain as the creature spasmed in its death throws. 

The young Knight was barely given any time to come down from their emotional rampage, as no more than a few seconds after Nosk had died did the arena change once more, and Ghost was forced into another battle.

It felt ironic that the next battle would be against an enemy whom Ghost also happened to dislike, though perhaps not to as much as an extreme as they detested Nosk. 

Flukemarm was annoying. Boring, in fact. Ghost easily defeated the mother of the Flukes the first time they encountered it, and defeating it again was just as easy. All Ghost needed to do was literally jump on top of it again and again whilst slashing downwards until the Flukemarm perished. Though they did secretly admit to themselves that it felt good to take their residual anger out on the living punching bag.

It was the battle that came afterwards, that all sense of the glory of battle within Ghost was irreparably shattered to pieces.

The Broken Vessel leapt into the new arena and released the piercing cry of the Radiance; the roar bubbling forth in a froth of sickly Infection that poured from the Vessel’s bulging eye-sockets.

Ghost felt themselves rooted to the spot, unable to do anything other than stare in horror. 

No. No. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fun anymore! Why— why did the Godseekers have to bring the Broken Vessel back to life, only to force it to fight once more like a puppet being controlled by the strings of the Infection.

The Broken Vessel suddenly lunged forward, slashing its nail across Ghost’s face and sending them flying across the arena. Ghost hit the ground hard, feeling their shell crack at the impact as fresh pain began radiating from both their mask and shoulder. 

No matter how sick it made them feel, Ghost knew that they had to stand up and fight back, or die and fail the pantheon. Though they did not know how the Godseekers were able to summon the Broken Vessel (even if it was only a conjuration of it), Ghost couldn’t let the feelings of dismay overwhelm them.

They got to their feet, and fell into a fighting stance despite the aching pain of their wounds. The Broken Vessel was still twitching erratically on the other side of the arena, evidently fighting for control over its own body as it staggered toward the young Knight. Ghost’s heart clenched with sadness.

Ghost dove forward, striking the Broken Vessel with swift attacks before dashing away as the Broken Vessel jerked its nail arm to retaliate — it swung its nail in a wide arch, but the motion seemed laughably slow as Ghost deftly dodged to the side and leapt into the air, landing just behind the Broken Vessel and shooting off a spell at its unprotected back.

Ghost had gained much experience since the last time they’d fought their undead sibling, and in that time their fighting prowess had only increased. But the Broken Vessel’s attacks hadn’t changed, and Ghost saw through them as one saw through water. 

The only thing that slowed the Knight down at this point was the weighted heavy feeling in their heart. Guilt. Grief torn out of an old wound, knowing just how many of their siblings had died horrible and gruesome deaths whilst they were wandering aimlessly out in the wasteland, trying to forget.

Finally, the Broken Vessel was defeated, the tell-tale expulsion of the bloated Infection dispersing from its now useless host, letting the Vessel fall like a puppet with its strings cut.

Ghost rushed forward, catching their lost sibling’s body before it hit the ground and holding it tightly, trembling as void black tears threatened to spill down their face.

Just before the arena was washed away by the Light, Ghost felt the Broken Vessel’s claws grasp the back of their cloak in a heartbreakingly brief reciprocation of the hug, before it was all taken away by the Light.

***

“Ahh! Will the Gods not relieve Us of this troublesome speck? How it tests Us, seeing this worm raise its filthy weapon to the Gods!” The Godseeker exclaimed.

Ghost only stared coldly up at the pompous being, feeling numb and distant. They did not feel like attempting to parse the meaning behind the Godseeker’s ranting, and was honestly starting to feel a bit irked by her constant outpouring of insults at their very existence.

“Thou hast luck beyond luck, o speck! The Gods of this pantheon, for purpose beyond Our understanding, allow you amongst them.” The Godseeker paused, seeming to think this over a brief moment before coming to a revelation and continuing.“Truly, the divine punishment they must be planning for you will be beyond all reckoning. Prepare thyself! Prepare thyself!”

The Knight just stared dully up at her, and after a time it eventually occurred to the Godseeker that the cringer probably hadn’t listened to a single word she said. The nerve!

With an indignant huff and a rude clearing of her throat, she impatiently urged the speck onwards. “Thou can not linger here, o coward of cowards! Step forth, and receive thine holy punishment!”

That seemed to finally snap the Knight out of their daze, and they solemnly walked passed the Godseeker to meet their final opponent.

***

The arena they found themselves in was occupied by none other than Nailmaster Sheo, painting away at a canvas before him. Ghost was starting to see a trend here.

They glanced to the side briefly, noticing that the audience of Godseekers were still there as always. Then they cautiously walked forward towards Sheo, trying to empty their mind of their emotions so that they could focus on the inevitable fight ahead.

Ghost had hardly taken one step forward when Sheo turned his head, evidently sensing the Knight’s presence as easily as his brothers could. Did Ghost really give off such an intense aura, or did the Nailmasters just have really good hearing?

Sheo gave Ghost a once over, and Ghost tensed. “Mmm. You look awfully troubled, my pupil. Have you perhaps grown weary of the weight of the nail?”

Ghost looked up in surprise, confused and a little on edge — waiting for Sheo to attack; draw a nail maybe and throw the picture at them. But Sheo only seemed concerned.

Ghost looked at the Godseekers, and saw that the Godseeker on the throne was glaring daggers at the two of them, clearly not liking the idle talk taking place in what was meant to be a battle to the death.

Nailmaster Sheo noticed and followed the Knight’s gaze, before a knowing smile crossed his features and he leaned down and whispered. “Ah, I got an idea. What do you say we play along with that lot’s little ritual, hm? For what is a god, if not an artist. And what does an artist do?”

Ghost caught the paint brush that Sheo suddenly tossed to them, and together, both student and master raised their weapons. 

“PAINT!”

***

The whole area was covered in wild splashes of paint by the time the two paused to catch their breaths.

The two paint wielders had created a new art form, using their brushes as swords to dash globs of paint at each other in a dance of colorful whirls and polychromatic hues; attempting to outdo each other in vivid displays of skill and creativity.

Once they were done, the floor was adorned with a spectacular work of art that had the Godseekers murmuring and whispering amongst each other in awe.

There were no words that could possibly describe the picture, and though Ghost never thought of themselves as the creative type, they had to admit that they felt quite proud of the part they played in creating the masterpiece.

Paintmaster Sheo dropped his brush and promptly fell to his knees, bowing low to the Knight in mock-reverence. “Oh! Such skill! Such creative beauty!” He threw his head back, one hand dramatically pressed against his forehead as if he were about to faint. “Clearly I’ve been bested and still have much to learn in the ways of the brush! I concede defeat!” 

Clearly, Sheo also had much to learn in the ways of acting. If Ghost wasn’t incapable of expression, they would have been trying their best not to burst into laughter at Sheo’s theatrics.

Despite the absurdity, the Godseekers were completely nonplussed by the outcome of the battle, and looked to the lone Godseeker on the throne for her final verdict.

The Godseeker was squinting very hard at the two, her expression an unreadable visage of scrutiny, before finally she looked up at the heavens and the sound of a bell rang — washing the arena with light and spiriting both opponents away.

Ghost found themselves back in Godhome once more, the Godtuner glowing more prominently than before. They had completed the Pantheon of the Artist.

***

Teleporting out of the dream realm and back to the Junk pit, Ghost was surprised to find that the large bug from the golden coffin was now sitting upright on its haunches.

The Godseeker looked much more alert and aware of her surroundings, her gaze honing right on to the young Knight with an inquisitive intensity -- rather than the scorn they exhibited in Godhome.

“Creeper. Did thee wake Us?” She asked, of course she wasn’t scornful, but still held the familiar air of superiority about her.

The Godseeker had a god complex. No surprises there, Ghost thought to themselves as they listened.

“Revived, this kingdom. These Gods, tuned and bested, gleaming in mind. Bright. Sharp.” The Godseeker mused aloud, looking around before finally looking down at herself and seeming to start at her physical appearance. “...And this? Our form swells? Large?” —She shook her head— “Nay. Immense. Majestic. Hibernation, so long forced upon Us, yet the shell that results is strong... So strong!”

Ghost tilted their head in inquiry. Hibernation? The term was unfamiliar to them.

The Godseeker mistook their curious gaze for admiration. “Thine gaze is adoring. Ye must think Us Godly. Amusing, foolish. But thou art faced with enormity and beauty, true…”

Ghost decided to leave the Godseeker to her self-infatuation, walking past her and scaling the wall with their mantis claw and hopping across the broken platforms overseeing the Junk pit.

Upon arriving at the last platform, they saw the Fluke Hermit peering over the edge at the Godseeker.

“Gla! Gla!” The Hermit exclaimed in a hushed tone. “Strange thing… lurking… waiting? Can it see me? Can it smell me? Ohhh, Mother!” 

Ghost shook their head, though the Fluke Hermit didn’t seem to notice, so they continued on their journey back to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone wanna take a guess at what Ghost and Sheo ended up painting on the floor?


	9. Pantheon of the Sage

The door to the family cottage slowly creaked open as Ghost peered in from the doorway, their head swiveling to cast their gaze about the darkened interior of the living room.

After a moment, they silently huffed a relieved sigh and stepped fully inside, quietly shutting the door behind them — only to tense when they suddenly sensed a presence nearby, causing them to whirl around and draw their nail instinctively.

The form of Hornet standing beside the entryway loomed over them; the dim light of the street lamps outside filtered in from the window, casting Hornet in a silvery outline and highlighting the metallic glint of her needle — which was poised a mere inch from Ghost’s unflinching face.

“Once again, I’ve caught you sneaking around unbidden. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Hornet said disapprovingly as she glared down at her wayward sibling. “What have you been up to, little Ghost?”

Ghost stared at Hornet, seemingly unfazed by her threatening posture, and for a long moment they didn’t move. They felt conflicted between telling Hornet the truth and keeping their journeys to Godhome a secret, but at the same time they didn’t quite understand why they were even feeling conflicted about the matter at all. Hornet was their sister; why shouldn’t they be open with her?

“Well?” Hornet prompted impatiently. She knew that Ghost couldn’t talk, but she also knew that the young Knight was more than capable of using other methods to communicate. 

Ghost shifted from foot to foot, unease creeping up their shell. They didn’t like being made to feel nervous, and the conflicting uncertainty did not help. Their grip on their nail flexed with anxiety.

Why was Hornet so intent on finding out what they’ve been up to anyways? They did stuff all the time and she hadn’t cared before. Why was this time any different? Why did she always feel the need to know about every little thing that went on in Hallownest? _She’s just always so intrusive!_

The sound of small feet tapping across the floor made both siblings glance up, breaking their silent confrontation.

Tiny was sluggishly making their way down the stairs, sitting down on one step before scooting down to the next one. 

Climbing up and down from the second floor to the first had always been like hiking up and down a cliff-face to the small Vessel. 

The Tiniest finally plopped down onto the floor, evidently still half asleep even as they clumsily got to their feet and shuffled towards Ghost. 

As soon as they reached them, Tiny clung onto Ghost’s cloak and buried their face into their older sibling’s chest — exhausted, but intent on holding onto their sibling as if they were afraid that Ghost would disappear.

Ghost couldn’t help themselves, all previous thoughts banishing from their mind as they replaced their nail on their back and swiftly gathered Tiny up in their arms.

Before Hornet could say anything, Ghost hastily retreated upstairs with their precious cargo in tow. They knew that they were simply trying to run away from Hornet’s probing questions and that she wouldn’t give up until she found out what they were hiding, but Ghost wanted to deal with that later. They needed some time to think; to sort themselves out.

Ghost discovered Quirrel’s door open ajar and made a quick guess that their younger siblings had likely decided to sleep over in Quirrel’s room, so they ducked inside before shutting the door quietly behind them.

As expected, Two and Three were sound asleep amongst the remains of a pillow fort sprawled out on Quirrel’s bed. The scholarly bug himself was in the midst of reading a book by candle light. 

When Ghost approached the bed, Quirrel looked up and immediately brightened at the sight of his friend. 

“Ghost!—“ He gasped aloud, then hastily covered his mouth and glanced over at the sleeping forms of Two and Three, who both shifted slightly but otherwise remained asleep.

Quirrel gave a sigh of relief before returning his gaze to Ghost; this time speaking in a hushed voice. “It is good to see you back, my friend. The little ones have been restless ever since you left the other night.”

Ghost dipped their head sheepishly, doing their best to avoid Quirrel’s gaze as they sat on the edge of the bed, still cradling the now snoozing Tiny close to their chest. A sense of guilt weighed uncomfortably within them.

“Your sister has told me you’ve been questing down into the depths of Hallownest's ruins again,” Quirrel began casually. “It’s good to know that you’ve been taking some time to yourself lately. Sometimes one needs to go off on an adventure by themselves, if only to clear one’s head. I know I’d often done the same back when I was more youthful.”

Ghost had been preparing for Quirrel to prod them with questions; demanding to know what they had been up to, like Hornet had. But to their relief, Quirrel took a more gentler approach, allowing them time to relax and not feel the need to be on guard. Quirrel just had that calming effect on others.

“Have you discovered anything new on your ventures, friend?” Quirrel then asked, causing Ghost to stiffen slightly, but Quirrel continued on: “There are still many mysteries that lay hidden in the bedrock of this kingdom after all. Though, knowing the remarkable adventurer you are, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already uncovered everything of interest in Hallownest.” 

He chuckled, and Ghost couldn’t help but feel themselves grow warm with something akin to embarrassment at Quirrel’s flagrant praises. But they just couldn’t bring themselves to respond to Quirrel’s question. Not yet.

Ghost shifted from the edge of the bed, intending to set Tiny down amongst Two and Three, but the Tiniest unconsciously clung tighter to Ghost’s cloak when they tried to put them down. 

Ghost decided to just accept their fate and bed down amongst the pile of pillows with the rest of their siblings. Two and Three shifted closer upon sensing Ghost’s form nearby, snuggling closer and effectively caging their older sibling on both sides. 

Quirrel sighed, a little disappointed that he was unable to get the young Knight to open up. Hornet had mentioned some time ago how she suspected that Ghost was up to something, expressing both sisterly concern and guarded suspicion. Quirrel had initially brushed it off as Hornet being paranoid, and insisted that she really ought to have a little more faith in Ghost. If Ghost wanted to keep some secrets to themselves, then they must have a good reason for it.

Still, Quirrel was curious, and ever since Ghost had started disappearing during waking hours for longer than usual, he started to feel a tad concerned as well.

“If there were ever to come a time where you are in need of help, Ghost, I hope you know that you have friends who’ll be there for you.” Quirrel said, looking imploringly at Ghost, only to realize after a few seconds that the young Knight had already dozed off.

“Ah, no matter. Sleep well, friend.” Quirrel whispered, blowing out the candle on the nightstand and allowing the room to fall dark.

***

_…Let me… be FREE!_

Ghost found themselves floating in a void of nothingness, they could not remember what they had been doing or how they had gotten where they were now. But a sense of unease permeated their being.

_I… shalt not be kept in the Darkness forever!_

The void surrounding them began to ripple, the once still darkness beginning to quake and shutter, as if something deep within was struggling with the strain of containing something.

_Did you REALLY think you could consume the Light!?_

A streak of blinding light suddenly split the darkness like a fork of lightning, searing into Ghost’s vision as the void around them warped and buckled, yet they were unable to move or turn their gaze away from the sight before them.

_That which once was is not so easily torn down!_

Ghost felt sharp stabs of burning pain stab at them from deep within, threatening to burst from their chest and break free. But Ghost struggled to quell the sensation, refusing to let it escape for fear of what it might do. 

Then all of a sudden they were awake, sitting upright in bed and shaking as they tried to get the rapid beating of their heart under control. They could still feel traces of phantom pain ebbing through them from the dream, and they shook their head to try and clear the after image that was still superimposed across their vision — but that only gave way to a new pain in their head, a migraine. 

Feeling queasy and a little out of sorts, Ghost carefully extracted themselves from their siblings, who were still snoozing soundly.

Ghost unsteadily got off the bed and exited the room. The pain in their head made paying attention to their surroundings difficult, and they resorted to putting a hand on the wall just to make sure they didn’t accidentally bump into said wall. 

They weren’t consciously thinking about where they were going, they just needed to _go._ It didn’t matter where. They just needed to be alone, they didn’t feel like it was safe for them to be around anyone at the moment.  
They paused at the top of the stairwell, breathing heavily as though they were severely wounded. Ghost distantly reflected upon the last time they felt this way, perhaps the last time they were in a desperate fight or traversing through the dangerous warren of Deepnest. Whenever they were wounded and were unable to Focus enough soul to heal themselves, they had instinctively tried to get _away_ — to curl up in an isolated spot and rest, like a small wounded animal that would run away and hide. 

But that was when Ghost had been traveling alone. They tried to remind themselves that they weren’t alone anymore — that they had friends and family close by whom they could rely on. But what could their friends do to protect them? 

They remembered how Cloth had died helping them defeat the Traitor Lord, having been speared through just before they dealt a devastating blow that would finish the Traitor Lord off. 

Ghost had not forgotten the feeling of loss and self-loathing for not being fast enough — for not being strong enough to prevent Cloth’s death.

No, they refused to let anyone else die because of them. No one else needed to suffer; they could shoulder the burden of the kingdom’s fate on their own, they’ve had to do it for this long, they could do it for a bit longer. 

Ghost steadied themselves and after a few moments, their resolve was gathered and they made their way outside. 

They had a quest that they needed to complete; a mystery that needed to be uncovered.

***

“What draws thee here, Crawler? Faith? Fear? Or do thee also seek the Gods?” The Godseeker inquired as Ghost stood before her hulking figure down in the dumps of refuse. 

She was curious about why such a tiny speck would take on the Godtuner, why it was so determined to return again and again to her side. Was the speck curious about her as well? 

It does not matter, she thought, muttering to herself. “Here. Heart of the Kingdom. We listen for them here. But some Gods are distant still. Must be awoken.” She shifted her bulk as she fell into a thoughtful daze, not noticing as Ghost used the Dreamnail to enter Godhome.

***  
_**Lowly brute! Blindest of worms! Again thee challenge the Gods? What divine whim has granted thee the strength to endure their presence, where no others may stand?**_

Upon entering the Pantheon of the Sage, Ghost was fully prepared for the Godseeker to start yelling at them again with her holy voice, letting the words brush off them like errant dust.

_**Fight then, struggle then, and keenly shall We listen for thy destruction!** _

The battles they were thrown into first was against the loyal protector Hive Knight that once guarded Queen Vespa. The Hive Knight was a flightless bee, but fought bravely. 

Ghost cut him down easily, feeling a little bad as they did so. But they weren’t given long to reflect much on who the Hive Knight once was, and how he also now played a part in Godhome.

The next battle was Elder Hu, the lingering dream of a fallen warrior. Ghost remembered the Hunter’s notes on the bug long past. Elder Hu had been a traveller who tended to those affected by the pestilence when it had first begun running rampant through Hallownest. 

He himself eventually became afflicted with the Infection, and was executed by the Mantis Lords.

Yet another thing to blame the Infection for.

The next three battles afterward were against the Collector and the God Tamer, and then surprisingly Troupe Master Grimm.

“How grand a stage!” Grimm exclaimed upon materializing in the middle of the gloriously Troupe themed arena. Grimm twirled and curtsied a greeting to the Godseeker spectating on her elevated throne. “A charming ritual this is. It is an honor, dear Seeker, to attend your call!”

The Godseeker tilted her head in acknowledgement. “The pleasure is Ours. Traveling god of the troupe. We beseech thee pulverize this troublesome speck!”

Grimm cast his gaze upon the young Knight, who was staring at him with disbelief. “Ah, we meet again, my friend. I dare say you’ve exceeded my expectations in partaking in this charming ritual…” 

With a burst of scarlet smoke, Grimm disappeared and rematerialized above the stage before diving down in a corkscrew fashion towards the Knight. 

Ghost dashed and leapt into the air, flapping their monarch wings just in time to avoid the Troupe Master’s follow up attack. They slashed downwards just before Grimm teleported away, clipping the Troupe Master’s shoulder as they passed. 

Grimm reappeared on the other side of the arena and shot forth a trio of conjured Firebats. Ghost slid beneath the first Firebat then leapt over the second, before dashing straight through the third, their Shade Cloak allowing them to pass through the flaming projectile unscathed. 

They closed in on Grimm and shot their own spell at him, Shade Soul blasted point blank into Grimm. The vampiric being grunted but bore the pain with dignity as he teleported away before the Knight had a chance to attack him again.

The two combatants danced around each other in this manner again and again, Ghost moving in to attack and Grimm teleporting away before they could get too many hits in. Every opportunity and opening in Grimm’s defense counted. 

Ghost managed to hit Grimm with a Dash Slash, staggering the Troupe Master and causing him to explode into a discordant flock of bats.

By the end of the battle Ghost was covered in scorch marks, having eventually defeated the Troupe Master (again), only Grimm had not reappeared to give them a farewell before the arena was whisked away and Ghost found themselves once again in a resting area.

As Ghost tended to their injuries, they noted how Grimm had not mentioned the Grimmchild during the start of the battle. Grimm hadn’t even inquired as to how his spawn was doing, or even asked why the Grimmchild wasn’t with Ghost.

Ghost felt a twinge of indignation on Gritten’s behalf, but then again, maybe that was just how Grimm’s kind treated their offspring. 

Ghost shook their head; now was not the time to be speculating. They still had a gauntlet of battles ahead of them, so they made their way through the glowing door.

When their vision cleared, they found themselves in a slightly darker arena, and glanced about inquisitively.

Then, to their right, a large clawed scythe slowly levitated into the air by an invisible force and the remnant of Galien materialized into being, and the scythe began spinning…

 

After beating Galien up, Ghost was met with another foe. One that they had wished they would never face again.

**The Terrifying, Beautiful, Powerful, Gorgeous, Passionate, Overwhelming, Grey Prince Zote.**

Ghost swore that they felt a part of themselves wither away and die as the fight commenced. Bretta was a nice beetle, and Ghost had been flattered at learning about her spontaneous crush on them when they had first rescued her from the Fungal Wastes, (although at the time Ghost had mostly just been puzzled; having not yet fully understood the names and feelings of emotions). But even Ghost thought that the contents of Bretta’s mind was a thing of absolute madness and a place that should be avoided at all costs. 

Seeing the Grey Prince of Bretta’s fantasies in Godhome felt worse than the time when Ghost had found out that Bretta had moved on to fawn over _Zote_ instead of them…

 

They finally beat Grey Prince Zote, and had kicked his decapitated head around the arena just to get out their irritation at the stupid, fake, not-a-real-knight, before the arena transformed again.

Uumuu, the giant gelatinous guardian of the Teacher’s Archives, emerged from the acid pool that now occupied the arena’s floor. The sight of the uncanny levitating creature sent a thrill of anticipation through Ghost, and on impulse they glanced about the arena in search of the familiar form of Quirrel.

But… after a few seconds of waiting, and Uumuu drifting closer, Ghost became confused. Where was Quirrel?

Uumuu let out an unnatural wail, waving its tentacles before sending out shock blasts of electricity, making Ghost scramble to evade the on coming bursts of lightning. 

As the battle progressed, Ghost came to crushing realization that Quirrel wasn’t going to be joining them in this fight. Strangely, the revelation made Ghost much more upset than they thought they would be. 

When Ghost had first encountered the guardian of the Archives, Ghost had felt a rising sense of panic when their nail had bounced harmlessly off the thing. Not even spells had penetrated its defenses, and Ghost could do nothing but try to stay alive. But then, Quirrel had come to the young Knight’s rescue, and for the first time Ghost had felt their heart soar; never in their life had they ever been so happy to see somebody. Quirrel’s lance had easily pierced through Uummuu’s shield, and the battle then on had been won easily.  
Now, the only thing that could break through Uumuu and leave it vulnerable to their attacks was by utilizing the floating Oomas’ explosive cores, though often Ghost would get caught up in the blast or the angle would be wrong and the core would collide with a wall.

Never before had Ghost wished so dearly for their friend to be there. Quirrel’s presence would have turn the tables on Uumuu. With Quirrel by their side, Uumuu wouldn’t have stood a chance. Quirrel was the best bug Ghost had the fortune to travel with across the breadth of Hallownest. Quirrel made everything better. Quirrel had always been there for them, from sitting with them whilst they rested to being a source of comfort in the midst of Deepnest, _Quirrel had been there._

Ghost felt like crying. It wasn’t fair. They took it as a personal insult that the Godseekers did not consider Quirrel worthy of their wretched Hall of Gods. 

Once more, an explosive core managed to hit its mark and deflate Uumuu right above where Ghost stood. Without hesitation, Ghost unleashed their fury and outrage into the most powerful Abyss shriek they had ever casted. The summoned wraiths of both Shade and Soul belted forth a new hue of fiery, crimson fury that annihilated Uumuu and surrounding Oomas on the spot; orange viscera and blood splattered across the arena in a violent explosion of gore.

The watching crowd gawked at the display, utterly dumbstruck at such a spectacular feat.

Ghost had enough sense to quickly use that moment of shock to Focus and heal themselves with the little bit of Soul essence they had left after using that spell. That fight had taken a lot out of them, and there had been very few targets to siphon Soul off of. 

All too soon they were thrown into another battle, and to their surprise it was Hornet again. Only this time the arena was different in that there was now a rushing wind, and stalks of white grass blew crazily in the raging gale. 

Ghost wasn’t given time to ponder on the details, as Hornet suddenly lunged forward with her needle outstretched. Ghost narrowly ducked out of the way, lashing out with their nail to catch their sister as she passed, hitting her with the flat of their nail as they had done before. The blow not cutting into her shell, but hitting more than hard enough to hurt. 

Hornet’s fighting style this time was much stronger than the last time they had fought her, and Ghost realized that both the arena and Hornet’s heightened ferocity was very reminiscent of their battle in the Cast-Off Shell.

The sense of unease rippled through Ghost again, as they finally cast Hornet down…

 

“Thou art painfully persistent! Why dost thou defile this pantheon with thine presence? Seek ye glory, o vain one?” The Godseeker said contemptuously at the puny Knight.

Ghost stamped their foot on the ground as they pointed their nail at the Godseeker, though they doubted the arrogant being was perceptive enough to understand their frustration.

The Godseeker merely shook her head in exasperation at the Knight’s little fit. “Thou misunderstand Our purpose. Through ritual combat are We attuned to the voices of the Gods. Ever higher do they lead Us! Higher and higher and higher! Until through Godly focus do We attain communion with that great power sleeping in the Kingdom's heart…”

Ghost stared intensely at the Godseeker for a long moment, prompting her to squint down at them imperiously.

“Dost thou understand Our words? Will thee allow thyself to be destroyed by the God of this pantheon? Will thee allow Us to resume Our sacred attunement?”

Ghost swung their nail at the air, crouching down and charging up crystalline energy, before launching themselves in a Super Dash and streaking past the Godseeker — leaving her in their dust trail as they flew into the next chamber.

The arena came into few, and as per the trend, Ghost saw Sly seated crosslegged on the floor, looking calm and meditative with his eyes closed. And Ghost was being propelled at high speeds right at him.

There was a whoosh of air in the Knight’s wake as they careened past and collided with the opposite wall of the arena.

Sly, feeling the rush of wind pass inches from his face, opened his eyes and glanced about in bemusement. “Eh?” 

Then he spotted Ghost sliding down from the wall and dusting themselves off as if nothing happened — they had totally planned that grand entrance from the start. They drew their nail and fell into a battle stance, ready to get things over and done with. 

Besides, Sly was barely taller than they were, in fact, Sly was now smaller than Ghost since they had survived their metamorphosis. How hard could the fight really be?

Sly stood up and then a great nail fell from the sky. Sly caught it without so much as a grunt in exertion; the great nail was nearly two-times his size! Sly let out a battle cry that sent the room shaking. 

Then in a split second Sly was in the air and slammed his nail downwards in an overhead strike so fast that— by the time Ghost had registered the movement —they were already face down in the floor in a growing pool of their own blood.

Perhaps this fight would be a little bit harder than Ghost had originally anticipated. 

With their head pounding from the pain, Ghost heaved themselves up just in time to roll to the side as Sly made to slice into them with another over arching sweep of his great nail. 

Ghost got to their feet, the inner energy of one of the three Nail Arts already charged and ready, they did not hesitated to unleash the power of a Great Slash.

To Ghost’s astonishment, Sly _parried_ the nigh unstoppable Great Slash, using the flat of his nail to redirect the tip of Ghost’s nail to the side, causing a great furrow to shear through the floor in a spray of rubble.

Sly truly was the Great Nailsage. 

Before Sly disengaged, Ghost blasted a spell of Shade Soul into him, following up with a flurry of rapid strikes from their nail. Sly leapt and then executed it a Cyclone Slash midair that steadily sent him sailing towards Ghost in a whirlwind of blades, forcing Ghost to retreat and climb the wall in order to avoid being crushed between a hard space and a sawblade. 

Ghost’s mantis claw allowed them to gain the higher ground. They descended on top of Sly like death from above, cloaking themselves in concentrated Soul and Shadow as the struck the Nailsage. 

Sly was thrown back by the force of the spell, the great nail flying from his grasp and landing point first into the ground. The fly landed nearby, groaning in a daze, before shaking himself and zipping out of sight.

Ghost saw Sly retrieve his great nail and it was back to square one. Ghost could handle this; they had been caught by surprise before, but they would not make that mistake again. 

The two combatants traded strikes, slashing brutally through shell and stone with the force of their attacks, before Ghost managed to catch Sly with another blast of Shade Soul, causing Sly to be thrown into the air and— staying in the air…

Ghost saw the tiny wings buzzing from beneath Sly’s cape. Oh, that’s right. Flies can Fly.

Sly yelled a war cry and started zipping all over the arena, swooping down and spinning sideways to unleash lightning fast cyclone slashes. 

Ghost dodged and weaved, matching Sly’s speed with their own and using their Shade cloak to duck through the whirlwind of blades and strike true.

The dust settled, and Sly stood up, before he bowed to the young Knight. Ghost bowed in return, and the arena was washed away by light.

Ghost found themselves in Godhome, the door to the Pantheon of the Sage closing behind them as the Godtuner glowed brightly.

There was a pulse of light, then a rumbling sound. Ghost looked down the hall and saw the golden gates— the ones that had barred their way forward— retract into the floor and ceiling, revealing a new door.

Ghost approached it, and read the name etched above.

Pantheon of the Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might just decide to skip most of the fights and only focus on the ones that are most important. What do you guys think?


	10. Pantheon of the Knight

_**O Gods of Hallownest, graciously thee open the way to this greatest of Pantheons! Thy voices grow closer and thy resonance draws Us ever higher!**_

_**Pray will We, Attune will We, until that spark of divine light shines from the deepest darkness!** _

The Shining god of greed; a dreamborn god of fear and relief; a kindly god of bravery and honor; a baleful god of regrets; another dreamborn god, one of meditation and isolation; the sentinel gods of the spire; and the frenzied god of mortality. 

Of the many ‘gods’ Ghost faced and defeated in battle upon entering the Pantheon of the Knight, only two stuck out to them.

The lost god of the abyss, and the treacherous god of anger.

The pain of seeing their lost kin once again being force to fight was excruciating. The fact that the Godseekers saw their lost sibling’s tormented state as something to be coveted and considered godly made Ghost feel sick. 

They wanted to simply throw their nail aside in favor of running to the Broken Vessel and just holding them, even if it meant enduring their infected sibling’s nail being driven into their back for their efforts. And Ghost had done so, several times; they weren’t sure how many.

Each time, they had desperately grasped their sibling by the cloak and hugged them, held them, clasped the sides of their face in their claws and stared into the lost kin’s orange eyes and mentally pleaded with them to stop. And every time, Ghost was met with a blade speared through them, and they’d wake up outside of the Pantheon’s door. 

Eventually, after an unknown amount of time spent brooding and fighting other past enemies, Ghost finally accepted that the Lost Kin would remain lost to them. Although Godhome had the ability to summon Hallownest’s most formidable fighters—both whom were still alive and those who had already past— Godhome could not truly bring back the dead. Godhome was a place of dreams and nothing more.

With their resolve reaffirmed within their mind, Ghost had faced the Pantheon of the Knight once again, and did not falter until the arena changed into a stylized parody of the Queen’s Gardens.

It wasn’t the Traitor Lord himself that caused Ghost to hesitate, rather it was what they saw situated off to the side the gave them pause.

In front of the gathered Godseekers lay the grave stone of the Traitor Lord’s daughter, wreathed in the pale blooms of delicate flowers. Resting beside the grave was Cloth’s club.

Ghost hadn’t been sure whether to take this as a sign of respect for the valiant lives lost, or the Godseekers mocking them for their failure to save Cloth. Ghost didn’t know which would be worse. The Godseeker had done nothing but belittle and scoff at the young Knight, making it very clear that Ghost’s presence was unwanted. But perhaps the Godseekers had nothing to do with the appearance of Cloth’s club and the Traitor child’s grave. Perhaps the appearance was taken directly from Ghost’s own memories upon making contact with the Godtuner.

Whatever the case might have been, it was a subject that was best set aside to ponder over later. Ghost was nearing the end of the pantheon, and wondered who would await them at its peak, since they had already defeated all the Nailmasters plus the Nailsage himself. Who could possibly be at the peak of this pantheon? Perhaps all three Nailmasters at once?

Ghost walked at a measured pace as they entered the dimly lit hallway, noticing how the walls had apparently changed, and symbols were now faintly glowing along the ground. Chains crisscrossed through the darkness, and Ghost was struck with a strange sense of nostalgia. The Godseeker stood waiting in her usual spot as the young Knight approached her.

“Show reverence, o meagre one. Show fear!” She crowed. “Thou approacheth a great and terrible God. Though its worldly body be defiled, the glory of its pure form endures, ruler of this pantheon. Its endless power shall attune Us to the one greater still, a God of Gods!”

Ghost silently pondered her words; scouring their memories in an attempt to figure out what being she was preaching about now. Pure form… Pure… Ghost looked at their nail held in their grasp, the Pure nail. 

The Godseeker squinted at the young Knight’s minimal movements; trying to read the emotionless mask. “Meagre one, dost thou imagine thyself the equal of this God? Dost thou imagine thyself made in its image? Thou assume a similar shape, and the deep echo within thee seems familiar…”

Ghost glanced up at this. Really? 

But the Godseeker quickly recoiled at the notion. “Ahh! What thoughts are these? Thou sow blasphemies in Our mind, wretch! Begone! We pray that the God of nothingness silence thee forever!”

Ghost, not satisfied, stepped forward and tugged insistently at the Godseeker’s garments. What did she mean by ‘similar shape’? 

“Thou art no God!” The Godseeker exclaimed, turning her face to the ceiling and shutting her eyes as if to blot out the young Knight’s presence. “Begone, pretender! Be silent!”

Sensing that they weren’t going to get anything else out of the Godseeker, Ghost used the Dreamnail to access her thoughts in hopes to gain more insight on what she meant.

_“O Pure one, thy silence nearly deafens Us. Foolishly we feared thee, yet We sense traces of the one God We seek. The God that once slept within…”_

Ghost was taken aback, they dared not give themselves enough time to think about the implications. They slowly, mechanically, stepped past the Godseeker — the pale light emanating from the doorway beckoning them.

The passageway glowed as they crossed the threshold, and Ghost found themselves in a black chamber, lined with glowing motes and symbols that were reminiscent of the interior of the Black Egg. More chains were lining the walls, these ones cracked and producing a faint orange light that made the surface of Ghost’s shell crawl.

However, it was the figure that stood at the opposite end of the chamber that took Ghost’s breath away. A tall, pale figure garbed in armor, was standing with their back facing the young Knight. Ghost could recognize those serrated horns anywhere.

Then the figure trembled, the sound of straining metal whined before the armored plates adorning the figure’s shoulders shattered apart, causing their long immaculate cloak to billow out and reveal the figure’s unmarred carapace. Two strong arms ended in sharpened talons, and one clutched within its grasp a Pure nail that was at least ten times the size of Ghost’s own weapon.

The figure finally turned, revealing a scarless face that was smooth and free of any cracks. Ghost realized with a jolt that this was the Hollow Knight in their prime form, before the Radiance had mutilated them from the inside out. This was the Hollow Knight of the past.

The other Godseekers who had usually spectated along the edges of the arena were now gone, and only the lone Godseeker remained, watching from her elevated throne expectantly.

The Hollow Knight— No, the _Pure Vessel_ reared its head back and roared, only this roar was not the roar of the Radiance attempting to break free, but a silent roar that was more felt than heard. The sound caused the entire room to quake, and the battle had begun.

The Pure Vessel’s attacks were much faster and more powerful than when Ghost had first crossed nails with their birth-cursed sibling, back when they were burdened with the Radiance. The Pure Vessel could summon shining daggers made from concentrated Soul and send them flying at Ghost in a wide arc. They could channel raw Soul through their Pure nail and plunge it into the floor of the arena, causing columns of bright shining lances to shoot up from the ground. When the Pure Vessel focussed, they did not heal themselves, but rather surrounded themselves with a circle of light before releasing it in an explosion that created an echo of smaller explosive Soul circles to scatter across the arena, and when the Pure Vessel lifted their cloak up, the void that made up their body would ripple and manifest a series of flailing void tendrils that would lash out. 

The Pure Vessel lunged and parried with the young Knight, and Ghost couldn’t help but marvel at their eldest sibling’s masterful abilities— even feeling a tinge of envy. What power their eldest sibling once had, all but stripped away by the Radiance’s fury.

Ghost fought with an eagerness that they had not felt since they had first stepped into Godhome, and felt exalted in the Pure Vessel’s glory even as their shell was cracked and bloodied. But Ghost did not succumb to their wounds, they could not allow themselves to fall this time, they wrapped their rage around themselves like a shield, protecting them from despair and uncertainty alike. Rage for the injustice, rage for the hurt and sacrifice made without consent or choice, rage that flared brighter and brighter with each slash of their nail.

Then the Pure Vessel fell to their knees, vulnerable and open to attack, Ghost dove in and smashed their blade across the Pure Vessel’s face.

_**CRACK!** _

The sound split the air. The Pure Vessel’s head snapped back from the sheer force of the blow, and for several heartbeats all was still.

The Pure Vessel’s visage slumped forward, revealing a horrible fracture that started from their left eye socket and branched out across their forehead. The crack bore an uncanny resemblance to the fracture that was made by the Radiance.

Ghost looked on in silent horror at what they had done, and impulsively reached a hand out towards their sibling, only to notice the now glowing cracks spiderwebbing across their own arm. They stared at their arm in shock, the light emanating a sickly orange, and then suddenly the Pure Vessel dissolved into a mist of dark fog, vanishing into thin air.

Ghost felt a burning pain in their chest, and looked down, only to jerk violently in terror as they saw the pulsing orange light beating beneath their shell. 

_”So, ’twas YOU who foolishly sought to smother the God that was held within the Pure one! Thou arrogant wretch!”_ The Godseeker stood from her throne in a rage, glaring daggers at the Knight now leaking copious amounts of infected luminescence. “Thou cannot prevent Us from attuning Ourselves with the might of that most brilliant deity, the spark of divine light shines from the depths of thine unified darkness!”

Suddenly chains shot down from the ceiling and floor, entrapping Ghost in cold iron links as they struggled helplessly. This wasn’t possible! It couldn’t be happening! They had defeated the Radiance at it’s source and banished the Light within the depths of the Void’s heart! 

The pain in their chest was increasing, burning from within and causing their vision to blur and darken. They tried to cry out for help despite the futility of it, but they knew full well that nobody would come to save them from this nightmare.

Then they felt a tug, their vision going black as they felt themselves suddenly whisked away on an etherial wind, and then all was silent.

Their vision cleared, and they realized they were laying face first on the ground. Cautiously, they lifted themselves onto one knee and looked up.

There, standing in front of them, was the Hollow Knight, back when it had been much smaller. Surrounding them on all sides in the midst of the darkness, Ghost saw the pale faces of their deceased siblings, all of them alive and whole. 

Then the sky above split in two, and a harsh light shined down upon all of the Vessels with a radiant roar that had all of them looking up in fear. The tattered Shades of their siblings had helped Ghost suffocate the Old Light during their battle within the Temple, and Ghost had thought that with that act they had finally avenged the hundreds upon hundreds of siblings who had died during the Pale King’s pursuit for the purest of them all. Finally having put their siblings restless souls to rest. 

They were wrong. 

_“THE DAWN SHALL BREAK… ”_ The resonant voice of the Higher being boomed from above like a thunder dome of sound and light. Harsh heat cascaded down in waves that threatened to drive away the cool darkness that shaded the Vessels. _“ANCIENT ENEMY… THE LIGHT ALWAYS PREVAILS OVER DARKNESS… IMMUTABLE LAW OF THE UNIVERSE… THE SUN SHALL RISE AGAIN AND PURGE THE KINGDOM IN A PILLAR OF FIRE AND ASH…”_

That’s when they saw it. Within the blinding light came forth a vision of the future, a future filled with fire. They saw Greenpath burning, all the plants and lush greenery shriveled and blackened as the smoke joked the life out of the air; the fires sending the acid pools bubbling as their contents boiled and evaporated from the heat. They saw the Fungal Wastes catching fire, Fungoons and Funglings bursting and Shrumelings skittering away in terror whilst Shrumal Warriors and Ogres were burned alive; the Mantis Tribe were powerless against an enemy that could not be beaten with the skill of combat. 

The Crossroads was burning, the cables holding up the various platforms twanged and snapped, sending entire lines crashing down as metal screeched and buckled. Gruzzers flew unerringly towards the flames, heedless of the danger as their wings practically evaporated and sent them falling into the hungry inferno. The Menderbug, Sulubra and Myla were all trapped within their homes, unable to do anything as the fires spread and cut off any hope of escape.

Dirtmouth was burning, the entire town was ablaze in tall pillars of fire, and blackened husks littered the streets. Were they bugs that Ghost knew? Was that Elderbug slumped against the bench? Bretta still in her room as her fanfictions melted away and her house crumbled around her? What about Quirrel and their siblings?! 

In this terrible vision of the future, Hallownest was burning. 

Despair, pain, and rage poured out from Ghost as they glared defiantly up at the harsh light above. They didn’t know how the Radiance had revived, and they did not know whether it was the fault of the Godseekers or their own fault for having released the Godseeker from her tomb, they did not care. 

As the Radiance roared from above, the darkness of the Abyss roared back, rising up from below to meet the Light head on. But they weren’t close enough—not yet.

***  
Ghost jolted awake, finding themselves lying on their back among a heap of garbage. They sat up, causing litter to cascade off their shoulders as they shifted. Frantically they patted themselves down, checking to see if there were any infectious cracks in their shell, but they were physically untouched. The pain they had felt and the horrors they had witnessed were already fading from their mind, as if it was all just a bad dream. 

“Gods. O Gods!” 

But of course, Ghost knew better. They glanced evenly at the large Godseeker crouching nearby, apparently having found a still mostly intact tea set amongst the garbage and was now sipping what looked like pond scum.

“Thy nature, mysterious. Uncanny. Even so for We who seek!” The Godseeker continued, waving the comically tiny chipped teacup hooked in her massive claw. “This kingdom is blessed with true Gods. True! All around, the corpses of pretender Gods. But! Not in Hallownest…”

Ghost ignored her, standing up and dusting themselves off, they took a moment to ponder over the situation they had found themselves in. 

The Radiance, while contained and prevented from leaking the Infection into Hallownest, was not dead. This was already known to them, and only them, mind; they had made no effort to inform Hornet or anybody else on what exactly occurred when they had entered the Hollow Knight’s mind to challenge the Radiance, as they had considered it enough that the Radiance could no longer plague Hallownest with her wrath— no longer able to haunt the dreams of the kingdom’s inhabitants. In fact, the only other being who probably knew the whole truth was the Hollow Knight themselves, and they hadn’t said anything about it either. No one else needed to suffer, and that was all that mattered.

Ghost reflected upon the past, before they had their metamorphosis, they had been plagued with intermittent dreams whilst they had slumbered, and those dreams had not stopped since their metamorphosis. In fact, they had only become more disconcerting.

It seemed that the Radiance was unable to effect the minds of bugs within the kingdom as a whole, and so had chose to concentrate on tormenting Ghost, and Ghost had been resigned to this burden. 

But those visions… what if the Old Light could rain down such destruction, and was only biding her time until Ghost made some kind of mistake or was weakened enough for her to burst from the confines of the Abyss? If the Radiance had discovered some way to turn Ghost into a conduit when attuned with Godhome…

_Through ritual combat are We attuned to the voices of the Gods._

_Until through Godly focus do We attain communion with that great power sleeping in the Kingdom's heart…_

Ghost wouldn’t stand for it. This new risk hung over their head like an executioner’s axe. If there was any doubt in their mind that the Radiance was still a threat to Hallownest, then Ghost would find a way to stop it. But how?

“By attuning Ourselves We clutch at their greatness, their immortality. Their unknowable splendor.” The Godseeker mused aloud to herself, ignorant of the Knight’s internal struggle.

Ghost took another look at the Godtuner in their inventory, turning it over to look at the inscription etched into its surface. 

Seek the gods of Hallownest. Tune their power. Through their strength, ascend.

Ghost captured an inkling of what they must do; they were going to ascend the Pantheon of Hallownest, where at its peak they knew the Radiance must reside. They were going to embrace the Void, and kill the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /insert 'this is fine' meme/


	11. Pantheon of Hallownest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took this long. Thank you to everyone who waited patiently, and thank you for all the supportive and lovely comments, they really helped motivate me as I love to see your thoughts and reactions to what I write!

Deep within the darkness of Hallownest’s depths, at the very bottom of the world, the abyssal sea was no longer still. Not even the illumination from the Lighthouse could temper it as the blackness swirled ominously within.

Then, the black sea heaved until waves of dark ichor crashed against the peer. There were no lingering fragments of will; no restless Shades of siblings long dead — not since the Radiance was consumed, or so they had thought.

All lingering light within the kingdom of Hallownest was beginning to flicker like the dying sputters of fleeting embers amidst the cold winds…

The black sea was rising.

***

Seer jolted from her slumber with a spluttering, choked cry. The old moth glanced about her surroundings, feeling befuddled and disoriented. What had happened? Why was she here? Hadn’t she already ascended? 

No, the Seer was back in her chambers residing within the Resting Grounds. Maybe she had only dreamt the part about ascending.

Shakily, the old moth stood, her old limbs creaking with the effort. Once she steadied herself with her wings folded firmly about her shoulders, she scuttled out of her bedchambers and took a peek outside.

“Ahhhh,” the Seer gasped at the sight before her, the Resting Grounds were in utter disarray! It looked as though the entire place was completely overturned, like something had come and desecrated the graveyard then came back and tried to hide its mess. 

How could the Seer have let the Resting Grounds come to such a state of neglect! Oh, surely she had more than dishonored her ancestors now, and the ancestors and the spirits of every bug who’d been laid to rest here. 

However, the Seer’s silent bemoaning of the apparent neglect in duty was interrupted by a peculiar sensation tickling her frilled antennae.

The Seer flicked her antennae up and listened carefully; she could sense something else was amiss, something that made her shudder involuntarily. 

Was it just her old age catching up to her, or did the Lumflies lighting the lanterns seem dimmer?

—-

Tiny was sad; they felt like Ghost had been gone for ages, and they were starting to worry. 

Tiny tried their best to act as though everything was fine, they didn’t like dwelling on the sad things.

Lately, the Tiniest had taken to crafting little dolls of their loved ones, using bits and bobs that they collected around town or had stealthily borrowed from Three’s hoard, ( though in reality, Three had let the smallest Vessel take some of their stuff on purpose ). 

But that particular hobby soon lost its merit. Tiny didn’t really feel like playing when everything felt so much gloomier without all their siblings present. 

Sure, Two and Three were still around, and so was Hornet, and literally every other bug they’d become attached to. But not knowing where Ghost was— or why they had disappeared at all—was disconcerting enough to make playing games especially dull.

And what was worse, they couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that something was wrong. 

They felt it in the void substance that made up their body; it was like a tremor, only it wasn’t a physical tremor that one felt beneath their feet when the earth shook–– no, it felt like a steady pulse, but not a comforting pulse like a heartbeat. It was like a giant beast slowly approaching; closer and closer, its footfalls sending ripples through the Void. 

Tiny knew that Two and Three felt it too, with the furtive glances they exchanged with one another each time they sensed it. They wondered if the adults were aware of it as well, but they had no way to voice their concerns. Even if they were capable of speaking, they weren’t sure if the disturbing sensation they felt could even be put into words…

—

Hornet was perched upon the highest peak atop the statue of the Old Light which stood at the apex of Hallownest’s crown, the wind billowing her crimson cloak whilst she stared off into the dark horizon.

**S͠i̢s͞te͝r,** a static-like buzz spoke in her head, causing her to stiffen in discomfort as she shot a look over her shoulder. 

“Hollow one, what brings you this far up the Crystal Peak?” She queried

The Hollow Knight –– in their tall yet crippled state –– had recently regained some of its sight, though, they could only make out vague shapes and couldn’t quite discern colors just yet. 

**T̶o͏ ́fiņd͠ ̀yo̷u̵.̢ So̷m̶ething ͝s̶tìrs͢.̧ So͢m͞eth̨ing͘ ba̸d.̵**

Hornet resisted the urge to wince. The Hollow Knight’s telepathy was intrusive and uncomfortably similar to the Radiance’s mind sucking influence that used to plagued Hallownest. 

Hornet barely suppressed a sigh as she looked back out over the horizon, “I know. I’m assuming that you have felt the change as well. I cannot fathom what it entails, but I agree that it cannot be anything good.”

**Gh̷o͢st͘…**

“Oh yes, I’m sure that troublesome grub is at the very heart of the disturbance.” Hornet’s gaze narrowed before she turned and leaped off of the statue of the Radiance, landing beside the Hollow Knight. 

“We have to find them,” she stated with set determination. “I know you cannot see very well, but you share our sibling’s knack for ending up at the very core of disasters that befall this kingdom.”

The Hollow Knight did not argue.

—-

Quirrel hardly ever went farther than the City of Tears, preferring to explore the more lively areas of Hallownest, particularly the ones filled with a variety of fauna and flora. 

However, lately, he felt as though he should go deeper. Every time he fell asleep he would have vivid dreams of shadows and darkness beckoning him. The dreams greatly disturbed him, and as a result, he had gotten very little rest. 

Right now, Quirrel was doing his best to distract himself with taking a stroll through the Queen’s Gardens, marveling at the beauty of both the architecture and the abundant plant life.

When he had first entered Hallownest he had avoided the place because of the treacherous Mantis tribe that had dwelled there. However, now that the Infection was gone and their Traitor Lord dead, the tribe had dispersed as the Mantis tribe residing in the Fungal Wastes rooted them out.

Now the Queen’s Gardens were more or less peaceful if a bit thorny. Quirrel was glad he was still nimble enough to avoid getting himself tangled in the brambles infesting the place.

It was then that he inadvertently found himself in the clearing with the gravestone of the Traitor Lord’s daughter, who had apparently died around the time that the original Mantis Tribe had split into two. Quirrel was uncertain as to how she had died, but his musings were put on hold as he knelt down to inspect the pale flowers which grew around the grave.

He had only ever seen these flowers once before, in the muddled memories of his past, but couldn’t quite grasp their significance. They were certainly a marvel, no doubt about that. The white flowers were faintly luminescent and Quirrel was tempted to theorize that they may have some mystical properties as well.

Delicately, he plucked one of the flowers and slipped it into his satchel, intending on studying it later when he returned to Dirtmouth.

He was about to stand back up and make his way towards the stagstation, when something else caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed it before when he walked in, but now as he turned towards the exit he saw it.

A black vine intertwined amongst its green brethren, standing out in stark contrast against the surrounding foliage. 

Quirrel felt a cold shiver run down his shell as he stared transfixed at the black vine. It wasn’t burnt, nor was it the result of some fungi or other plant-based diseases, it was… no, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible, was it?

Cautiously, Quirrel stepped closer and with a slightly trembling hand he reached out to touch the dark vine. Almost immediately he drew back as if he’d been burned. The vine was ice cold to the touch.

Struck with an illogical sense of doom, Quirrel hurriedly spun around and fled the clearing. As he went he spied more patches of blackness amongst the foliage, the same cold aura emanating from them.

Quirrel made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder, only to gasp in horror as the path behind him was overtaken by a dark shadow, a darkness that was racing towards him. He ran faster, returning his sight to the path ahead, only to skid to a halt as it too was enveloped in the same all-encompassing blackness. 

With nowhere to escape and the darkness rushing to devour him, Quirrel raised his hands in front of his face and shut his eyes in some vain attempt to brace himself as the freezing cold aura washed over him.

_**Quirrel…** _

_**QUIRREL!** _

Quirrel sat up with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes darted about in bewilderment.

He was… in the Queen’s Gardens, back in the clearing by the gravestone. Only there was no sign of the darkness amongst the vines and foliage.

Something tapped his forearm, causing the old bug to flinch with a startled yelp. Glancing down, he was surprised to see Three sitting beside him. The young Vessel looked just as startled as he was.

Seeing the child, Quirrel instantly began to calm down. “Goodness, Three,” he laughed breathlessly. “You surprised me. What are you doing all the way out here? Are your siblings with you?”

Three stood up, their tiny hands grasping Quirrel’s own and tugging insistently for him to get up. Quirrel obliged and allowed Three to lead them out of the clearing and towards the Stag Station less than a block away. There the Little Stag was, flat on their belly and looking bored.

At the sight of two potential passengers, Little Stag lurched to their feet with a sheepish snort, trying to look as though they hadn’t been napping a minute ago.

Without a word, Three hopped onto the passenger seat with Quirrel following close behind. The child then rapt on the side of the seat, making a _clack-clack-clack_ sound, prompting the Little Stag to take off.

Quirrel did not say anything, his mind occupied with troubled thoughts. Had it all been a dream? Had he been so deprived of sleep that he had fallen unconscious whilst exploring the Queen’s Gardens? It had felt real, not at all like a dream, but Quirrel couldn’t be sure. He kept speculating the meaning of what he had seen and tried to puzzle together a logical explanation, so much so that he hadn’t realized the Little Stag had stopped until Three prodded him to disembark.

Quirrel looked up and realized that the Little Stag had taken them to the King’s station in the City of Tears. He allowed himself to be led all the way to the fountain, where he saw both Tiny and Two were — drenched by the pouring rain and sitting in their own puddles by the fountain.

Both Vessels looked up upon noticing their approach and Tiny jumped to their feet to wave enthusiastically.

“Hello, children,” Quirrel greeted with a wave of his own. “What are you doing all the way out here? Does Hornet know of your whereabouts?”

Tiny tilted their head to the side as if pondering the question, then simply gave a shrug of their shoulders and pointed towards the building where the Relic Seeker was holed up. 

The gaggle of siblings started moving again, beckoning Quirrel to follow them as they scampered towards the building. Quirrel had nothing better to do, and he was curious as to what the children were up to, so he decided to humor them for now.

Soon enough, all four of them were out of the rain and inside Relic Seeker Lemm’s antique shop. The bearded bug, as usual, did not look amused at having the group once again invading his dwelling.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lemm demanded. “Don’t tell me those beasts are wreaking havoc under Hallownest again—”

Quirrel shook his head. “No, no, nothing quite so dramatic as that. In fact, it seems that the children here have some sort of business with you, if I am not mistaken.” He glanced inquiringly down at the three siblings, hoping that they would somehow offer an explanation.

Tiny and Two looked pointedly at Three, who nodded and stepped forward. From beneath their cloak, they withdrew a strange pair of objects, presenting them up for everyone to see.

“Well, would you look at that!” Lemm exclaimed and leaned over the counter in sudden interest. 

The two items which Three held were very unique and strange; one appeared to be an ancient mask made of gold that was battered with age. The other was a pitch black idol with wicked curves and spires that looped upwards to intertwine with themselves.

“What are they?” Quirrel couldn’t help but ask.

Lemm reached out and took the two items that Three offered to him, inspecting first the mask and then the idol. “I am not as familiar with the origins of the mask, I’m afraid.” He admitted. “Its design is nothing like that I’ve seen in Hallownest. This, however…” He held the idol up in indication. “This is a rare artifact from a time before Hallownest; a relic from a long-dead civilization in a forgotten age. Most common bugs are led to believe that Hallownest was the first to claim these lands, but what most don’t realize is that something else existed within this place — something older than the Light of the Pale King himself. Back then, there were no kings nor queens amongst the bugs of old. Inspired or mad, those ancient bugs. They devoted their worship to no lord, or power, or strength, but to the very darkness itself.”

There was a moment of silence as the new bit of knowledge sunk into Quirrel and the siblings. Quirrel felt a particular sense of unease when he could not help but recall the strange incident in the Queen’s Gardens.

“What became of them?” Quirrel wondered aloud.

“That is the greatest mystery of all,” Lemm replied. “There are plenty of theories, of course. Some say that the ancient bugs simply fell into ruin as a result of some natural catastrophe. Others claim that the lack of any light caused their shells to become petrified— thus turning them into nothing but stone statues.”

“What about you? What do you think happened, if I may ask.”

“Well, if I’m honest, my best guess is that the darkness they worshiped so much eventually swallowed all of them whole.”

“Ah,” Quirrel looked downcast. “That is certainly an ominous proclamation…”

The siblings meanwhile were glancing between each-other, seeming to have a wordless conversation with one another as the two adults ruminated amongst their own concerns. 

“It’s strange,” Lemm mused aloud, squinting thoughtfully at the Void Idol. “First that little wanderer brings me more arcane eggs than I thought existed, and then one of their siblings brings me this extraordinary relic. It’s like these little voiceless vagabonds have an affinity with uncovering things of the distant past!”

Quirrel could probably guess the answer to that; Hornet made no secret about the Vessels and their dark origins. But he dared not divulge the information to Lemm, Quirrel felt he had no right to be gossiping about things that could be considered personal to the Vessels. 

Instead, Quirrel found his thoughts fretfully drifting back to Ghost. The only way Three could have come in possession of such unusual artifacts is if Ghost had given it to them. After all, these weren’t the kind of things one just finds on the side of the street. 

That meant that Ghost had to have been returning to Dirtmouth more often than Quirrel and Hornet had been led to believe— or at least they had returned _recently_ to drop off the trinkets. 

Quirrel glanced at the gaggle, his mind abuzz with consternation. “Children,” he spoke in a gentle voice, kneeling down to meet their gazes. “Has Ghost visited the cottage recently?”

The siblings looked at each other, then back at Quirrel, then Tiny raised a hand and rubbed the back of their head in a gesture that Quirrel could only describe as pensiveness. Right, questioning the children was a tricky business. Quirrel really needed to take the time to teach them how to read and write.

Suddenly the door to the shop banged open, revealing the form of Hornet as she did a quick scan of the room before finding Quirrel and her siblings. “There you are! I have been searching basin to crown for the lot of you!”

“Why can’t anyone have the decency to use the front door properly,” Lemm groused, glaring pointedly at the new grooves on the wall behind the door. 

“Searching for us?” Quirrel asked, ignoring Lemm’s grumblings. “Why? Has something happened?”

“Of sorts,” Hornet replied vaguely, turning away and throwing over her shoulder. “Let us be swift now, follow me, and bring those two artifacts with you!”

With that, she zipped away with a slingshot of her thread.  
Lemm huffed indignantly but handed Three the weathered mask and the void idol. “If you weren’t planning to sell these priceless relics then why bother bringing them to me, eh? Bah— no matter, I’m a collector, not a thief. Take the blighters and get out of my shop!”

Quirrel wasn’t sure if the crotchety old bug meant the relics or the children but never-the-less he grabbed the siblings and bid a hasty exit.

——  
An odd detour to the Nailsmith’s old forge and several minutes of walking through a previously hidden short-cut down into the Royale Waterways later, Quirrel found himself standing on a platform that overlooked a section of the Royale Waterways he hadn’t seen before.

“This is the place where the children were initially captured by those scavengers,” Hornet informed, standing poised beside Quirrel on the edge of the platform. “I had wondered why Ghost was interested in this place, but at the time I had assumed it was merely their impulse to explore that was at play. However…” She was staring intently at something amongst the piles of garbage and pointed with her needle at it. “I realize now that amongst the refuse of the city’s filth there is something out of place. Some _being_ that may have answers as to where my wayward sibling has gone.”

With that said, Hornet shot her needle to the opposite wall, grabbed Quirrel by the arm and leaped off the platform. Quirrel only had enough time to let out a startled shout as he and the three children were suddenly airborne.

Hornet swung on the thread like a creature swinging from a vine, the motion effortless even with the additional weight.

She landed on one of the few spots where the garbage hadn’t completely taken over, Quirrel and the children stumbling clumsily after her. Hornet let go of Quirrel and recalled her needle with a tug of the string, then motioned for the others to follow her as she hiked up the side of a large hill of assorted chests, cabinets and various ruined furniture. Quirrel followed, nimbly making his way up and assisting the children as they went.

“The refuse has been disturbed recently,” Hornet stated aloud. “You were not present when Ghost first uncovered this place, but a great portion of trash has been shoved into the pool behind us. At first, I thought this was the result of the Junk-bug scavengers, but then I saw this…”

When they finally crested the hill, Quirrel saw the cavernous hole in the pit of garbage. It looked as though something had bored its way through the decades of cemented refuse, creating the mouth of a cave with various bits of junk lining its walls. In a more lighthearted situation, Quirrel would have said that it looked like the entrance to the home of a mass hoarder. But with the eerie lighting and the foreboding tension in the air, Quirrel could only envision it as a gargantuan maw of some monster — twisted and fused to the surrounding waste.

For a moment the five of them just stood there, gazing at the mouth of the cave with trepidation, until Quirrel caught movement in the corner of his periphery and nearly jumped out of his shell as a tall figure stood up from where it had been sitting statuesque by the cave entrance.

The children instantly recognized the figure and went tumbling down the side of the hill in their rush to get to their eldest sibling. 

The Hollow Knight crouched down with a creaking of limbs to nuzzle faces with its younger siblings, impressively managing not to flinch as they enthusiastically patted its scarred face in return. 

Quirrel allowed himself to sag slightly with relief, then blinked and glanced questioningly at Hornet. “How did… the Hollow Knight get down here?”

Hornet gave the faintest shrug. “I suppose it used a shortcut…of sorts.” She offered vaguely before making her descent to join with her siblings at the foot of the trash hill. Quirrel sighed and followed soon after. 

As soon as they joined the Vessels, the Hollow Knight turned and pointed towards the foreboding tunnel. 

**D̴own ͜t҉he͠re͞…I ̡s҉e͠n͝s͘e ͝it͘.͏**

Quirrel cringed and reflexively lifted a hand to his head in a vain attempt to block out the sudden intrusive buzz of the Hollow Knight’s voice, then regretted it from the apologetic whistling wheeze from the old Vessel— feeling ashamed at how rude that must have seemed. The Hollow Knight’s telepathy seemed to have gotten worse ever since Ghost disappeared but that wasn’t the Hollow Knight’s fault, it was only trying to help. 

Hornet ignored the minor altercation in lieu of getting straight to the point. “You are certain that Ghost went through here?”

The Hollow Knight tilted its head towards the cave, then back to Hornet as if deliberating on the answer before finally giving a nod of affirmation.

“Then let us go forth.” Hornet declared, taking a step toward the cave entrance, only to be halted by Quirrel.

“Wait, Hornet! I’m always up for exploring potentially dangerous dwellings but perhaps we should take a moment to consider the risks before proceeding.”

Hornet huffed. “What is there to consider? If there is any danger within then we shall cut them down. If it turns out to be another one of those Muldvarps I swear in the Brood’s name I will destroy it myself!”

“Yes, but we don’t know how far the tunnel goes and if we were to be attacked in there, we’d be fighting in very tight quarters. I don’t even have a weapon on me. In fact, I’m having trouble seeing the reason why you bayed me to come along in the first place.”

“You want to know what has become of Ghost as much as I do, correct?” Hornet replied evenly. “You do want to find them, don’t you?”

Quirrel wrung his hands in agitation, not liking the insinuation in Hornet’s tone. “Yes, of course. You know I do, but—“

“But nothing!” Hornet cut him off with a sweep of her cloak. “There’s something going on, something sinister and somehow Ghost is involved with it. I know you’ve been receiving strange dreams, as have I! And I refuse to wait idly while evil continues to fester within the kingdom!”

The Hollow Knight made a sound akin to a low whistle through the cracked surface of its mask, and when Hornet and Quirrel glanced questioningly in its direction, the Hollow Knight simply pointed towards the tunnel entrance again.

Three was standing at the mouth of the cave, holding up the strange weathered mask they had in their possession. The circular notch in the center of the mask’s crest was glowing faintly.

Three stepped forward until they were at least a few feet inside of the cave, and the light on the mask brightened before narrowing into a small shaft of light that pointed down the dark tunnel. Three looked over their shoulder at the others to see what they thought of the strange phenomenon.

Two and Tiny took it as a sign that they were on the right path and quickly joined their middle sibling’s side.

“Well, that settles it.” Hornet finally said, stepping forward. “Lead the way, little ghost Three.”  
—-

Ghost dug their claws into the immaculate surface of Godhome’s central tower, scaling up its side in a series of wall-jumps and short flaps of their monarch wings. Now that all the doors below had been unlocked and systematically completed, there was only one pantheon left.

The pantheon of Hallownest was situated Godhome’s highest point, where an advanced tuning array was built with the specific purpose of attuning to the kingdom’s most glorious of gods.

The array itself was intricate; it was not a door that one must enter in the same way the other pantheons were kept. It had golden spires that curved upwards to interlock with a central mechanism that Ghost could only describe as a larger and more elaborate version of the godtuner, but what was most interesting was the black orb affixed to the nadir of the device with another black orb mirroring it on a pedestal just beneath the array. Strangely, Ghost recalled the strange room in the Colosseum of fools, which had a cruder design and arrangement. Ghost hadn’t understood what its purpose was or why it seemed familiar to them, until they came across the shade gates which barred their way in certain places around Hallownest. The arrangement was the same; two black ovals or curvatures, one above and the other bellow, a shaft of physical shadows comprised of void focussed between them to create a barrier which repelled all that wasn’t made completely of void.

Ghost stepped towards the pedestal beneath the tuning array, the void sphere resting atop it was bigger than their head. They reached out and laid their hand upon the dark sphere, feeling the familiar coolness of the void within. 

As if on instinct, Ghost called upon their unified link to the Void’s Heart and pulled its substance forth into Godhome. 

There was a loud building hum which emanated from the tuning array as the notch within its center flashed gold and a shaft of void bridged the gap between the two spheres. With a crack and a bang, the very fabric of space and time was ripped open; a blinding light shone upon Ghost, who could do nothing more than brace themselves for the coming storm.

***  
The fight ahead was long and grueling, but Ghost felt their determination increasing with each blow dealt and enemy slain; with each slash of their nail, they were getting closer to achieving their goal. Nothing could stop them now.

“Mischief beyond mischief! We can not escape thee, even in this highest, most distant of pantheons. O wielder of nail, o eater of Soul. Are thee a messenger of the Gods… or something stranger?” The Godseeker questioned the young Knight as they stood there, staring blankly up at her.

Ghost did not have an answer for the Godseeker.

“We will not defy thee,” the Godseeker finally stated, “continue thy combat, o stranger, continue thy ritual. We shall be listening closely…” 

***

The battles continued on. Ghost began to recognize a pattern. Most of their opponents were ones they had faced before, only slightly stronger and more varied in their methods of attack. Ghost recognized that the pantheon of Hallownest was essentially all the other pantheons combined into one. 

They were surprised when they confronted their 9th opponent when Tiso dropped into the arena, and for a moment Ghost felt a brief sense of elation at seeing the arrogant bug again. 

However, that elation was swiftly obliterated under the massive weight of the Brooding Mawlek that came crashing down atop of Tiso, crushing the warrior like he was nothing.

Ghost felt like they were just slapped in the face, and for a moment they just stood there in stunned silence as the Brooding Mawlek meandered about the arena.

The young Knight’s grip on their nail tightened exponentially as coals of their rage were incensed into a blaze of absolute fury…

When they came across their 25th opponent, which just so happened to be the Troupe Master Grimm, something in the pattern changed when Grimm bowed to the Godseeker.

“I see now what it is you wish to accomplish, friend,” Grimm murmered from the corner of his mouth. “Truly, a grand final performance awaits, the likes of which this kingdom has never witnessed since the time of ancients. Though be warned…” Grimm flashed forward, a claw lancing out to clash against the Knight’s nail which they had instinctively raised to counter the attack, only to find the blade of their nail gripped in the Troupe master’s claws as he pulled Ghost in close. Those red eyes flared brightly as a wicked smile split his face as he whispered words that only Ghost could hear. “Even if you succeed in completing the Seeker’s ritual and destroy the Light of our counterpart, the Nightmare will go on.”

With those ominous words said, the battle commenced. 

***

After defeating Grimm, Ghost found themselves suddenly standing on a small grass plataue, surrounded by the bubbling hiss of acid pools. In the distance, they spotted the immense form of Unn resting languidly in the seering pool.

“Sleeping God,” Ghost looked to their right and saw the Godseeker standing beside them, staring thoughtfully at the giant slug. “We can barely feel thy presence amongst the green left behind. What strength thee once possessed fades beyond time and tune. Such magnificent scale, even in decline. If only thee could teach Us to grow so large…”

Ghost distantly thought that the Godseeker was already well on the path to becoming as large as the slug god, but they shook the thought off and walked past the Godseeker and headed towards the doorway on the opposite end of the chamber.

“Sleeping God, to see thee as thou once exited, with land and dream and devotion, We would give Our mind…” The Godseeker said wistfully.

***

The fights then after were more annoyance than a challenge, and Ghost found themselves wishing that something new would happen. Fighting all six of the Watcher Knights was easy so long as they didn’t get cornered, and the fight with Uumuu just reminded Ghost that Quirrel wasn’t here. 

Then suddenly the scenery swapped to an arena with dimmer lighting, and Ghost found themselves standing upon a central stone platform surrounded on all sides by a bank of fog. Ghost had no doubt that falling into the fog would mean certain death.

Ghost turned in a slow circle, wondering where their opponent was, before spotting a familiar figure standing a dozen yards away with their back facing them.

It was Hornet.

Ghost reflexively fell into a fighting stance, fully expecting Hornet to whirl around and give a battle cry before launching into an attack, but their sister didn’t move. In fact, she looked as though she hadn’t even noticed that Ghost was there.

Confused and a little unnerved, Ghost took a few steps towards Hornet with the intention of tugging on her cloak to get her attention.

Hornet’s head suddenly snapped around to stare at Ghost at an unnaturally crooked angle, her back arched with a sickening crack as she let out a shrill shriek. Ghost watched as their sister’s shell split open as she backbended forwards to land on crooked clawed limbs that were rapidly lengthening into a pair of leathery wings.

The Hornet doppelganger launched itself into the air revealing its bloated stomach filled with orange pestilence. 

It was times like these where Ghost really wished they could just curl up into a small ball and scream for the rest of eternity.

***

After dealing with that horrible fever dream, Ghost found themselves in a starry abyss, standing alongside the Godseeker once more as she stared ahead at a distant shining figure.

If Ghost’s eyes could widen with wonder, they would have just then as they gazed upon the luminous silhouette of the White lady. Unbounded was she, her roots flowing freely and her branches sprouting high into the heavens.

“O tragedy! This majestic god evades Our attunement with such ease.” The Godseeker bemoaned. “We live only to serve the gods, to seek them out. Why does she frustrate Us? How does she hide from us? Does she diminish herself by choice? O majestic one, We beg thee reveal thyself! Our mind is so much less without you in it…”

Ghost felt a rising irritation at the Godseeker’s constant whining and wished she would just shut up and leave their mother be. Ghost might not have a very close connection to the Queen, but she was still the mother of the Vessels, even if she did stand by and allow the Pale King to cast down so many of her children to their deaths…

Ghost decided that they didn’t want to think about their mother at the moment and swept onwards toward the next battle. They didn’t know how, but they sensed that they were nearing the pantheon’s peak.

***  
**_Gods… bound by ritual…_**  
**_Deepest power… the Heart…_**  
**_Scattered lands… Nightmare binds all…_**

These were the words the Nightmare King whispered to Ghost as the burning scarlet flames rose higher and higher around them. Ghost could see the Heart beating fervently behind the Godseeker’s throne; lurid red light emanating from it and pulsing in time with every heartbeat like the drumroll of war.

Grimm’s ominous warning echoed in the Nightmare king’s words, making the young Knight tense with unease, but they refused to let the words knock them off balance. No matter what, they were set on their goal…  
***

Unlike the last few times, Ghost now found themselves in an unbearably bright room surrounded by furniture hidden beneath white sheets. Beside them was the Godseeker once again, this time she gazed upon a vacant throne.

“Even long departed, We feel the afterglow of the God-power that sat this throne… It lays heavy upon this kingdom. That lingering power alone was beacon enough to draw Us to Hallownest. How bright it must have been to mortal bug stood before it.” The Godseeker bowed her head. “A God so strong… Yet erased so completely. How could it happen?”

To be honest, Ghost did not care if the Pale King was remembered at all, and honestly would have preferred if the Pale king simply faded into distant memory. The Pale King was gone, and if he ever came back, Ghost would not hesitate to bring justice raining down atop his head for all the atrocities he committed to further his own goals. 

***  
Ghost launched a Shade soul spell at the Pure Vessel, and their elder sibling fell to their knees. Motes of shade was leaking copiously from the wounds along their body and the Pure Vessel’s shell was already beginning to crumble away.

Ghost was shaking with exertion, the battles preceding the one with the Pure Vessel was the real source of their fatigue, despite the brief respites in between. They felt just as broken and near death as the Pure Vessel before them, despite not having nearly as grievous wounds as the other thanks to their soul healing ability.

Hornet was not here to help them, nobody was here to help them. They were alone in this battle, and that fact alone seemed to eat away at their dwindling strength. They wanted to go home, they wanted to see their family again. They were so tired of these stupid gods, their stupid pantheons and their stupid god-seeking obsessions. They hated the Godseekers and their pathetic need to attune with powerful beings like flukelings to suckling on the mold and feces of their betters. They hated the Pale King and his influence over all of Hallownest, how even in death he continued to haunt the ruins of his kingdom and everyone in it. They hated the Radiance, who refused to let go even as the abyss had struggled so hard to finally drown her and smother her Infection beneath the waves of the impenetrable void; unable to influence the waking world, she instead chose to torture Ghost with dreams and intrusive thoughts in petty vengeance.

Worst of all, Ghost realized that they were beginning to hate themselves as well. Self-loathing ate at their insides for all their failings. They couldn’t save Tiso, they couldn’t save Cloth, they couldn’t save Tuck or Brumm or the thousands of siblings who’s corpses were scattered in nearly all of Hallownest. They didn’t even manage to stop the Radiance completely, only entrap her in a stronger cage and muffle her enraged roars to a mere whisper on the wind.

The Pure Vessel shifted, almost completely deteriorated, and craned their head upwards to face the sky.

Ghost looked up as well, their limbs ached but their will remained steadfast. They knew what was coming. They were going to end this and then they would ensure that no one else needed to suffer. 

The sky split open, and the Radiance’s light shone forth in all its glory as the world fell away and reconstructed itself into a new arena. Golden clouds surrounded them on all sides, pierced intermittently with the tall pillars of Godhome.

High above was a single large blazing disk of fire, its rays of light shining out across the land in painfully bright contrast to everything else; the scorching sun. 

A pair of wings unfolded from the sun, and with a flash of light, the Radiance was upon them with a mighty cry that shook the very heavens.

Ghost readied their nail and met the Old Light head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet. >:3c


End file.
